• August 24, 2012 /  Logs

    It is mid-morning on Votumas, Maius (Month 5) 5.
    In the Sun Cycle of the Lord: 355.

    Following are two images of the wedding dress I based Lien’s on:

    Millers Bridge
    [Chilly, drizzle, slight breeze from the east, before dawn]
    Vandagan stone spans the width of the river Bren, connecting the heart of Lithmore City to the south with the main roads leading through Sartez, Wilhelm, and the holdings of the noble blooded. Prominent against the gently rolling hills of sectioned land is Lithmore’s citadel, the home of the royal family. The high banks of the river widen here, and the large
    wheel of the millhouse creaks continuously as it turns by force of the flowing water below.
    [ Exits: north south ]
    Ari is here, riding a bay palfrey with a white blaze. [App: 5]

    Ari rides into the area at a steady pace, frowning tightly – seeing a person wearing a stormy grey velvet winter cloak, lined in soft rabbit fur, he immediately moves to dismount. “Lien, is everything alright? I was looking for you.”

    A person wearing a stormy grey velvet winter cloak, lined in soft rabbit fur stands at the bridge, most of her attire concealed beneath a stormy grey velvet winter cloak, lined in soft rabbit fur, but the occassional glimpse of white exposing the dress beneath. She stares down at the water running below, though at the sound of Ari’s voice she turns and offers him a faint smile.

    Ari pulls a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather from his things, holding it over his head – and Lien’s, too, as he approaches. “Should we… should we go back home?” he asks falteringly, momentarily biting his lower lip.

    Lien gives a small nod, huddling under the leather cloak that Ari holds over her. Without word, she steps away from the bridge and moves towards him, her own cloak drawn in that much tigher around herself and the outfit beneath.

    ….

    The Chessboard Garden
    [Chilly, drizzle, slight breeze from the east, before dawn]
    The design of this garden is clearly to look like an enormous chess board, paved with large light grey and beige stones squares in an eight by eight pattern. There are benches lining either side of the huge chess board and rose hedges behind those, white on the north and red on the south. A waist-high set of chess pieces made from a light and dark colour wood have been set on the north and south side of the board, waiting to be played with, while the center of the area is left free to be used as a path between the garden and the gate. A stone mansion looms at the west side of the garden, a humbler wooden hut of a stable adjoining it to the north.
    [ Exits: north east -west- ]

    Ari hands off the reins of his horse to a groom, keeping the cloak balanced over the both of them. “Get the door?” he requests softly.

    Lien approaches the door and with a bit of fumbling manages to turn the key in the lock. She steps inside, leaving it open for Ari.

    You leave west.

    An Expansive Foyer
    [Pleasantly Cool]
    This expansive room rears its roof two stories tall, airy and light despite the stone it’s constructed of. A cathedral ceiling slopes up to a rectangular skylight of thick stained glass, elegant design framed with wrought iron. Half of it displays a daytime sky, a brilliant pale blue enlivened by a sun, clouds and detailed birds in flight; the other half a deep blue twilight sky, all five moons bright in a sea of stars. More ordinary windows ring the walls, concealable with deep blue velvet drapes hung artistically through the room. Underfoot, tiles of black marble adorned with a geometric starry design surround a square dancing floor of polished mahogany, framed with plush couches and armchairs in matched deep blue. A massive black marble fireplace floods the room with heat and light, aided in the latter mission by a gold chandelier that sends the light of its candles reflecting off glass planes. Carved mahogany doors in the northern and southern walls lead into the rest of the house; a similar door in the eastern wall leads back out. A glass panel in the western door shows a dining room beyond.
    [ Exits: north east south west up ]
    A crystal tumbler of whiskey sits on a tray near the couch. (western edge)
    A collection of mahogany chairs and couches in blue velvet is here. (eastern edge)
    Huge windows in wrought-iron frames ring the room. (western edge)
    Ari is here. [App: 5]

    Ari bundles up the cloak and heedlessly tosses it into a damp pile near the door, turning to Lien. He’s clearly all prepared for the wedding, fully dressed and with his hair neatly styled. He lifts both hands to squeeze her shoulders, eyes soft. “He’s… not here?”

    “I haven’t seen him in a month.” Lien says sullenly as she too rids herself of her sopping a stormy grey velvet winter cloak, lined in soft rabbit fur, and hangs it on a stand near the door, tiptoeing up to reach it. Once done, she smoothes her fingers down over her skirts, her pale blue eyes lifting to fix upon Ari. [Lien]

    Ari smiles bleakly down at Lien, his gaze running over her in the dress. “You look beautiful. He’s a fool who doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he tells her, voice low but intent.

    Lien’s eyes drop to the floor, her bottom lip trembling and tears threatening to fall. She turns away from Ari and approaches the warmth of the hearth.

    Ari follows along at Lien’s shoulder, his footsteps quiet and his features twisted in a slight, pained grimace. He stands just behind her, letting the fire dry him out as well. “Wherever he is… I will find him.”

    “I thought he was better than Eddie.” Lien begins as she lowers herself down to sit upon the ground, a shimmering silver silk skirt, opening at the front in a V flaring out about her in a circle. “How could I of been so stupid?” [Lien]

    “I thought he was too. If he’s been gone for an entire month, there may well be a reason for it.” Ari exhales, reaching up to run a hand through his hair – which is tied back. “There will be guests… I should perhaps go let people know not to come… would you like anyone to just… come over instead?” [Ari]

    “Rothgar, Gavin and Marisa can come over. No one else. Ideally with a casket of whiskey. Dav– all the food… ” Lien cringes as her nostrils flare and she takes in the scent of it, one hand coming down to rest upon her stomach. “Have it sent Southside I think better than it going to waste.” [Lien]

    “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Ari bends down to kiss Lien’s forehead, waving to the servants as he hurries for the door. “Soon as I can.” [Ari]

    Ari wears a hooded floor-length cloak of weighty waterproofed leather about his body.

    Lien simply nods, her fingers coming up to tug at a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging and draw it down into her lap. She struggles to get to her feet and sits down and curls up on one corner of the couch.

    Ari leaves east.

    Rothgar Astartes arrives from above, with short and powerful strides.

    Rothgar Astartes steps down from his room upstairs, yawning quietly with a hand over his mouth, before spotting Lien, giving her a small smile and bowing to her. “M’lady.” He rumbles, dutifully. “You are well?”

    “Ari will be back soon.. if you’re looking for him.” Lien says quietly, looking more sombre than usual. She is dressed in white and a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging rests in her lap, clutched tightly between her hands. [Lien]

    Rothgar Astartes blinks, a few times, canting his head to the side as he looks the woman over. “…I… Confess, I was not looking for M’lord Orban, M’lady – but that is… Very good.” He rumbles, cautiously. “Be you all right?..” He asks, taking a step towards Lien.

    “He .. ahh.. he didn’t.. he hasn’t shown up.” Lien speaks quietly, and despite attempts to keep any emotion from her voice, her words stammer just a little bit and her grip tightens on the veil she holds so firmly within her lap. “Ari will be back soon.” She repeats again, swallowing sharply. [Lien]

    A loud knock sounds from the eastern door.

    Rothgar Astartes blinks a few times, at that, looking at Lien. “Is… The wedding this day? Now?” He asks, concerned, before looking to the door. “That could be him now, M’lady.”

    Gavin ab Harkness arrives from the east.
    A lean, sandy-haired Reeve with brilliant green eyes has arrived.
    A grizzled, burly Reeve has arrived.
    A tall, sinewy Reeve with curly red hair has arrived.

    “It was.. I haven’t seen him in a month,” Lien admits, her eyes going to the door when one of the serving girls opens it and lets Gavin ab Harkness into the foyer. She is dressed in white, a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging clutched tightly within her hands in her lap. [Lien]

    Rothgar Astartes just stands in the foyer, awkwardly, a frown upon his face as he looks to Lien. “I shall… Gather my suit, yes?” He asks, cautiously.

    “What are you planning on doing?” Gavin ab Harkness first asks Rothgar Astartes, brooking precedence and tradition; it’s only after her airs this question before he next settles his dark eyes upon Lien, stepping towards the couch upon which she curls. “Hey, love. I heard. We’ll figure it out,” he utters, his voice melodic and– surprisingly, perhaps– authentic. More air’s expelled from his lungs, both hands upon the couch’s back, and he adds: “Please accept condolences on behalf of the Crown, Lady Storm. This shall be resolved, and your intended will be found shortly.”

    “He’s not going to show. You needn’t. But a blessing hmm? You didn’t want to get dressed up anyways.” Lien murmurs to Rothgar Astartes as she brings her hand back through her hair, tugging from the lengths some diamond studded hair pins and setting them aside on the table. She tilts her head back, looking up towards Gavin ab Harkness, the dampness of her lashes suggesting a few tears have already been shed, though no fresh ones fall now. “I… I’m sure… he has a good reason.” [Lien]

    The eastern door is opened from the other side.

    Ari arrives from the east.
    Marisa dul Damassande arrives from the east, hips swaying back and forth as she goes.
    A lithe male knight with wavy blond hair has arrived.
    A tall, slender manservant with light brown hair has arrived.
    A stocky, sandy-haired bodyguard with a square jaw has arrived.
    Marisa dul Damassande slows to a halt.

    Rothgar Astartes just stands there, looking between Lien and Gavin ab Harkness. “I… Confess that I have little idea what is happening.” He admits, looking to the door. “Where is M’lord Orba-” He stops, spotting Ari and bowing to him. “M’lord…” He trails off, a frown upon his face.

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a concerned glance over to Lien with a sympathetic smile.

    Ari steps inside, removing his leather cloak and hanging it on a hook near the door; it drips with quiet, steady regularity. Underneath he’s in resplendent if now slightly damp white and silver. “Hello, Rothgar. Marquis ab Zadossa is… not here at the appointed time.”

    Standing near the couch, looking down at Lien, Gavin ab Harkness has both hands resting upon the upper portion of the couch: his expression is tense and dour, but he tries nevertheless to showcase something with whispers of reassurance for the girl. As the door opens, he glances towards the new entrance, and bows his head, chin nearing the fabric of his coat. Back to Lien, he murmurs, “… indeed. And as he’s not here at the appointed time, surely something happened; and we shall resolve it soon and find him.”

    Rothgar Astartes just purses his lips at Ari, giving him the ‘look,’ jaw taut, before giving Marisa dul Damassande a polite smile, bowing to her. “Lady Damassande – shall I fetch us… Refreshments?” He asks, of Ari.

    Lien is still curled up in her corner of the couch, slippered feet tucked up next to her and a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging been twisted until it barely resembles a veil. She nods absently to Gavin ab Harkness, a low breath of air exhaled in a sigh. “I’ve not seen him for almost… a month but.. if he returned to Zadossa on business, he’d of sent word right?”

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a light smile back to Rothgar Astartes with an incline of her head.

    “It is possible some unexpected disaster befell him, and he’s been kept away by matters out of his power. Whatever the truth, we’ll figure it out.” Ari nods to Rothgar Astartes after a moment, slowly. “Aye, refreshments… does anyone have any particular requests?” [Ari]

    Rothgar Astartes stays silent, waiting for the requests that are certain to come his way.

    Lien belatedly notices the return of Ari and the entrance of Marisa dul Damassande finally and offers the latter a smile and a hesitant wave. She swallows quickly, her hand coming up to tug through her damp dusky locks, pulling a few more pins out with her fingers and setting them aside. “A whiskey I think.” She suggests to Rothgar Astartes.

    “Ah, brandy, eef you’ve any?” Marisa dul Damassande requests without much thought. She holds an elegant package in hand, and glances to it and Lien a bit at a loss and just offers a sympathetic smile over.

    “Just… coffee for me, please. A nice big mug, the cook knows how I like it.” Ari reaches up and tugs the wreath-shaped ring out of his hair so that he can run his fingers through the damp locks – a quick, agitated gesture. [Ari]

    “… ah, whiskey, brandy… why not bring both, and then double it?” Gavin ab Harkness wonders aloud, and in response, he sort of offers up a decanter of liquor, which he hands off to Rothgar Astartes. “Why not use this when you return with the orders?” he murmurs quietly, adding a rather sheepish smile. Back to Ari, his dark eyes settle upon the tall bard, and he exhales. “… indeed,” he chances, “if Zadossa went back to that eponymous area, surely he would’ve let you know; but, if there were an emergency? That might change things.”

    Rothgar Astartes nods, to all gathered, frowning deeply as he walks past Lien on his way to the kitchen, reaching down and quickly placing his hand upon her shoulder, squeezing gently.

    Lien is still largely at a loss for words, her eyes falling to the veil in her lap. She presses her teeth into her bottom lip, biting on it briefly before saying, “I’m sorry… everyone, for wasting your time today. I.. there’s a lot of food here.. somewhere and …”

    Gavin ab Harkness gives you a square decanter of weighty crystal, stopper round.

    Rothgar Astartes enters into the room once more, large arms occupied with serving trays and glasses. He teeters a bit, before setting a glass of brandy down, and handing a glass to Marisa dul Damassande, giving a glass of whiskey to Lien, and a coffee to Ari. “Lords, Ladies.” He rumbles, dutifully bowing his way out of the conversation at hand.

    “Honestly, don’t even think about us,” Marisa dul Damassande corrects to Lien with a cluck of her tongue. “Eef anyone has to feel bad about eet, we all know who eet ees.”

    “Aye, this isn’t -your- bloody fault.” Ari turns a scowl in a vaguely northwest direction, as if the March itself could sense his displeasure. “The food is still in the kitchen; they were to start laying it out once they got a message sent that everything was underway. So it’s in the cellar, the iceboxes, so on.” [Ari]

    “Not your fault,” Gavin ab Harkness tells Lien outright. He offers a smile then, both hands clasping together as he remains near the couch, although he offers Rothgar Astartes a crisp nod as the burly man returns. After a while, he realizes that he’s not been offered a drink, but he merely turns back to the curled-up Lien. “She’s right,” he confirms. “You’ve done nothing wrong this day; you shouldn’t think on that at all.”

    “Thank you,” Marisa dul Damassande tells Rothgar Astartes, accepting the snifter with a thin smile.

    Marisa dul Damassande drinks brandy from an elegant crystal snifter of brandy.

    Lien takes a sip from a crystal tumbler of whiskey then offers it back to Gavin ab Harkness, sharing it with him. “What… do we do? I mean, what can I do now? I’m pregnant, and I .. I don’t think I can conceal it for much longer- not that I’ve been out of the house in .. a while anyways.”

    Ari curls a hand around his mug of coffee. At Lien’s disclosure, he sends a sharp glance Gavin ab Harkness’s way, but soon relaxes. “Thanks, Rothgar,” he murmurs over his shoulder, brow creased. “Well, we find Zadossa and we get an explanation out of him. If… we don’t find Zadossa, we need to find you another husband. Immediately.”

    Rothgar Astartes purses his lips at Ari’s comment, focusing on a point upon the ceiling with narrowed eyes, as though it had done something wrong.

    “… it’s not a secret,” Gavin ab Harkness demurs to Ari, though he offers the man a subtle shake of his head, instead reaching out to accept the glass from Lien, drinking heavily from it– he does this in one fell swoop. “Suffice it to say, the Crown’s position is that Zadossa aggrieved Lady Storm before, and also this day. I’m prepared to … effect … his marriage to her, unless someone else is more suitable.” He returns the glass to Lien, though is attention shifts back towards the others. “Zadossa makes the most sense, but I’m Lien’s friend. I want her honor kept intact, but if she can be happy… that’s the ideal.”

    “I eemageene there are several blades een thees room that would help, when he ees found,” Marisa dul Damassande notes with a light frown.

    “Not that many people know, but I did tell Gavin some weeks back..” Lien admits to Ari, her eyes going to the remaining whiskey in her glass and soon finsihing it off. Once done, she plucks up a square decanter of weighty crystal, stopper round and refills it. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to.. force him to.. but… Gav, unless you’re offering, I don’t think there’s anyone else that would be remotely considered suitable.” [Lien]

    “Indeed. As far as I am concerned, in terms of ‘practical’ effecting… Zadossa shall have zero choice in the matter.” Ari smiles thinly, glancing to Marisa dul Damassande. “That said, it may be more complex than that. I see only a few possible reasons why he is absent, and in the case of most of them… aye, marriage to him is… far from ideal. We -have- to find a… a backup. I’m sorry, Lien,” he adds, voice gentling as his gaze shifts back to Lien. “Sorry to put it in those terms.” [Ari]

    Rothgar Astartes looks between the nobles, jaw taut, pursing his lips with a deepened frown that keeps getting deeper with every passing moment. Eventually, he speaks up. “Perhaps, Lords, Ladies, the matter should be put to the decision of the Crown.” He rumbles, quietly. “And perhaps decisions should be held until Lord Zadossa returns.”

    “… I love you, Lien: you’re a dear friend, and I do love babies, but you know as well as I do that being married to a woman isn’t … you know, in the cards,” Gavin ab Harkness admits quietly to Lien, reaching out to rest a hand upon the girl’s shoulder, offering a tempered but affectionate squeeze. “Still, Ari’s right: we do need to find someone else, for your sake and the child’s; but in all things, the wrong here is Zadossa’s and not yours. You can’t and won’t be punished for not being willing and ready. It’s him. So even if it takes a period of a month or two to have this done, it’s not on your shoulders.” He borrows her glass then, drinking liberally from its contents (after which point he refills it with the decanter). Briefly, his eyes shift to Rothgar Astartes. “The Crown’s opinion is that Zadossa is the appropriate match, but as far as ‘ideal’… today proves it, doesn’t it? We must think of what’s best for the barony of Strongjaw. That is the principal concern.”

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a light shake of her head. “I think we are long seence past ideal. Functional ees…”

    “Required, aye. If Lien isn’t married by the time the babe is born, it’s… a bastard child, and cannot legally inherit without unusual measures.” Ari speaks up quietly to Rothgar Astartes, ruffling his hair again; at this point it’s practically standing on end, a cloud of black. “And to take those unusual measures is possible, certainly, but the scandal… the scandal will be infinitely worse in the public eye if we must. I do still hope the man has a good excuse, it’s certainly possible. But we -must- be prepared in case he doesn’t.” [Ari]

    Rothgar Astartes maintains his silence, a light frown upon his face as he wets his lips and looks about. Eventually, he looks to Lien, giving her a smile that flickers quickly across his lips. “You are right, M’lady – at least I will not have to dress in suits. Or dance.” He rumbles, a trace of humour entering his tone.

    Lien listens quietly to everyone talk, her head tilting to the side and a kiss briefly laid atop Gavin ab Harkness’s hand before she sinks down further within the couch. “I know Gav. Just .. ” She grimaces, her fingers tightening around the glass full of whiskey that she holds. She offers Rothgar Astartes a brief smile. “At least.. we are all spared that.”

    Gavin ab Harkness says OOCly, “So, who wants to send him a messenger? :P”
    Ari says OOCly, “‘Zadossa: I will find you. You will marry Lien. Then I will make her a widow. Love, your new brother-in-law'”
    Lien giggles. (OOC Emote)

    “Easy now, kiddo,” Gavin ab Harkness murmurs to Lien as he eyes the full glass of whiskey: he relieves her of another drink before settling it back within her hand, exhaling afterwards. He glances towards Ari with a faint smile– however, it quickly fades. “The … possibilities, and I’ve reviewed them, as I’m sure you have,” he prefaces, but doesn’t complete that thought. “If Zadossa can be tracked down, that should be the immediate step; and within one week… we can search for alternatives. But, some of them, might render Lien a widow over a period of months, provided they accept; and even then, we’d run into investiture and inheritance controversies. She shouldn’t have a 60-year-old husband unless all else fails.”

    Ari pales suddenly as if some new thought has occurred to him; he looks to Lien, down at his own feet (where his gaze stays, for a long moment) – and then to Marisa dul Damassande, his brows knotting deeply.

    Marisa dul Damassande raises an eyebrow questioningly back to Ari at his glance.

    Lien’s legs draw up at the knees, her fingers wrapping back around the glass when Gavin ab Harkness returns it to her hand and the base of it set upon the top of her knee. She stares at the contents of the glass, seeming to not really be hearing or listening to anything Gavin ab Harkness, or for that matter, anyone has said.

    Rothgar Astartes just stays silent after his jibe to Lien, looking at the nobles about the room. Eventually, he takes a deep breath, a frown upon his face as he looks to the door. “Have any considered sending a messenger to his House?” He asks, curiously, as though the thought just occurred to him.

    “If a messenger reaches him so easily, then he was here all along and just couldn’t be bothered which seems particularly… monstrous.” Ari laughs a little, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. “And if he can’t be reached… if things don’t work out, there is another option,” Ari speaks up, his voice hoarse; he’s now staring into the fire, rather than at anyone in particular. “On paper I’m an even better-suited match for Strongjaw than Zadossa.” [Ari]

    “Eet couldn’t hurt,” Marisa dul Damassande allows to Rothgar Astartes with a light shake of her head.

    Ari’s words are enough to bring Lien’s attention suddenly back to the conversation, and she quickly blurts out. “No, you can’t!” She then amends her words, her gaze briefly sweeping over the others there, Marisa dul Damassande in particular before setting her eyes upon Ari. “Not that you aren’t looking incredibly dashing in that their suit of yours but… you can’t.” [Lien]

    Marisa dul Damassande frowns at Ari’s suggestion.

    Gavin talks to a liveried courtier and dispatches him formally.

    Rothgar Astartes just clears his throat, blushing a bit as Ari brings his own small point to the table, looking down at the ground, then out to the window, a frown upon his face. “Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear…” He rumbles.

    A loud knock sounds from the eastern door.

    “I would rather not, no,” Ari agrees with a slight, pained smile. “So let’s hope we don’t have to discuss that any furthe- Oh Lord and all your saints thank you so much!” [Ari]

    After dealing with a courtier and dispatching him rather severely– the message’s severe; not his treatment of the poor servant– Gavin ab Harkness returns his attention to both Lien and Ari. To the latter he states, “… that’s the absolute last, worst, most backup case possible, for everyone’s sake, including yours. I’ll marry her before you,” he offers, chancing a smile. “I mean, you’re both cousins,” he admits… and then, whatever words follow, his eyes turn towards the window. “… Ari, get your blade ready and put on your smile.”

    Ari is lollin’. (OOC Emote)
    Ari says OOCly, “Yet again, my prayers have been mysteriously answered.”
    Rothgar Astartes says OOCly, “Its all you, Ari. I’m telling you, you’re like my lucky RP charm.”

    “He’s already here, m’lord!” calls out one of the maids, from the door. [Player (RPYell)] (To the east)

    “Well, let heem een,” Marisa dul Damassande remarks wryly. “I eemageene he’ll need all the time he can get to explain heemself.”

    Lien glances up, her breath drawing in quickly and teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She doesn’t get up from the couch, her legs drawing in a little closer to herself.

    Franzorik ab Zadossa arrives from the east, limping heavily in, using his cane to support himself, dressed all in white.

    Ari is the one who’s opened the door, standing right before it; he eyes Franzorik ab Zadossa a moment, then smoothly steps out of the way. “Franz,” he greets, smiling easily. “Good to see you. -Do- come in.”

    Marisa dul Damassande gives Franzorik ab Zadossa a thin smile that doesn’t meet the eyes, stepping out of the way.
    Marisa dul Damassande drinks brandy from an elegant crystal snifter of brandy.

    Franzorik ab Zadossa is limping heavily as he uses a black ironwood cane, the top of which is detachable to support him, otherwise clad in white, from a plumed cavalier’s hat, right side pinned to the crown down to where a tailored brocaded suede longcoat with a high collar ends. His own typical cheer is absent. “Ari,” he says quietly. “Must love this.” He’s also missing his eyebrows, and all of his hair in general.

    Looking no younger then twenty, but perhaps a little older, this pale faced man is a fine Lithmorran speciman. With blue eyes, he’s been shaven completely bald, including his eyebrows, though he has typical features that are uniquely defined by the smoothness of his face and the odd cleanliness of his teeth. His cheekbones are high, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to claim that he’ll likely grow into an even more handsome man. A lithe musculature hints at a life of work. Broad shoulders compliment his frame, as well as well toned muscles. A scent of Vavardi soap hints that despite his well taken care of body, it’s possible that he also lives a life of luxury. He stands a little taller than most men, but isn’t as towering as Farins or Vandagans tend to be.
    His equipment is hidden under a tailored brocaded suede longcoat with a high collar.
    He is taller than you by a foot and a half.

    Reaching down to snatch up the glass Lien currently holds, Gavin ab Harkness takes a steady drink from it before returning it to the white-clad woman’s hands. He remains near the couch, and his dark eyes meet Franzorik ab Zadossa’s as the man enters. “Thank you for coming,” he offers neutrally, though his attention’s almost immediately arrested by the man’s partially hairless appearance: his eyes focus upon his counterpart’s decided lack of eyebrows… and hair. He waits a few heartbeats. And then he asks, “What in the Lord’s name happened to you?” (is a perfectionist)

    “…I’m willing to acknowledge there’s… probably a good reason for the delay,” Ari announces after a moment spent studying Franzorik in silence. His gaze flicks to Gavin ab Harkness with that comment, and he steps closer to Marisa dul Damassande, bowing his head to murmur. [Ari]

    Ari whispers to Marisa dul Damassande, ‘Forgive me?’

    Marisa dul Damassande casta a glance over at Ari’s whisper and doesn’t respond.

    Lien wraps her fingers back around the glass that Gavin ab Harkness returns to her hand. She slowly draws up to sit upon the cushions on the sofa in a kneel, looking over the back of the couch at Franzorik ab Zadossa, still largely speechless.

    Rothgar Astartes stays silent, content to merely observe the incident from afar. He looks between Lien, Franzorik ab Zadossa, and Ari, a deep frown upon his face. As Franzorik ab Zadossa speaks, he lifts a brow, curiously. “I have not seen you within the confines of the Church.” Is all he rumbles, before falling silent again.

    “Penance,” is all Franzorik ab Zadossa murmurs, keeping his gaze pointedly off of Lien at the flash of light, even going as far as covering his eyes, leaning on a black ironwood cane, the top of which is detachable heavily. “The only one here I owe any explanation to is Lien,” he murmurs, with a wince, though his finger splay open so an eye can settle on Gavin ab Harkness. [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    “Wrong,” Gavin ab Harkness tells Franzorik ab Zadossa rather freely, though his tone’s more informative than argumentative. “You owe Lien that explanation first and foremost,” he agrees, bowing his head to signify deference to that kernel of thought, “but Lord Orban’s her guardian: he should know; and Lady dul Damassande deserves to know, for she’s clearly behind the purse-strings of much of the festivities. And I represent the Crown, who ought to know the fates of both Zadossa and Strongjaw.” He pauses, finally catching sight of Rothgar Astartes, for whom he must struggle to offer justification. “… and, all of us here, to include Master Astartes, are concerned for the well-being of Lady Lien and very much wish to see her married and happy; and the same for you, my Lord ab Zadossa. So if there’s a reason to explain this all, all of our ears will hear it in short order, so we might as well hear it now.”

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a slight shake of her head at Gavin ab Harkness’s words, not otherwise speaking up.

    Ari seems somewhat distracted from what’s happening, now; he keeps looking back to Marisa dul Damassande, despite an evident desire to keep his attention on Franzorik ab Zadossa. He’s frowning with clear anxiety, his jaw taut with tension.

    “I admit I owe the Chancellor of the Exchequer something,” Franzorik ab Zadossa murmurs, wetting his lips needlessly. “But there’s priorities at the moment.” Still refusing to look at Lien for whatever reason, when his head turns towards her, his fingers slide closed. “I am sure you look beautiful right now, my love. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, I… was hoping my hair’d grow back before the wedding. I didn’t want you to see me like this. Today, though, I was going to face my demons. On my way to the Cathedral, though, I was almost ran over by some red-tressed horsewoman I can only assume was Charali, who was trying to get to the Hospital because she was in labour. My bloody leg twisted the wrong way, so I had some hemproot but when I hurried back everyone was gone.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    “That’s truth: because the royal procession never arrived, there wasn’t much of a crowd at Saint Aelwyn’s,” Gavin ab Harkness confirms after hearing Franzorik ab Zadossa’s words. Still, he pauses, then offers in passing, lifting his shoulders diffidently: “Truth be told, bald works for you. And, there’s no reason a priest can’t be summoned in short order. A public ceremony with festivities are the ideal, but… nothing prevents a wedding being held one day, and a reception the following one.”

    Ari gets a formidably full, bristly moustache, of genuine black hair from a spacious black linen backpack, with several large pockets.

    Ari clears his throat after a moment, gaze dropping from Marisa dul Damassande to stare at the floor. He then perks up just slightly, reaching into his backpack. Out comes an actual honest-to-God moustache in one hand, and a knife in the other. “…Would you like some eyebrows?”

    Lien ashe draws a hand through her hair, capturing locks she pulls them away from her face and behind her ear. She is still largely speechless, her pale blue eyes fixed upon Franzorik ab Zadossa and teeth sinking firmly into her bottom lip. She glances around the room, her gaze passing over the few people gathered there, when she spots the knife she meeps, “No! You don’t have to castrate— ” And then, the moustache is spotted and the words suddenly come to a quick halt.

    Rothgar Astartes just stays silent, lips pursed, declining to comment on the situation as he moves to the stairs. He looks to Ari, sky-blue eyes examining the man closely. “Shall I dress, M’lord?” He asks, dutifully.

    “Ah… no. Thank you, Ari. No. I should like to pass on your ah… eyebrows. Very thoughtful of you, though. I think,” Franzorik ab Zadossa murmurs, fingers parting again so that he can eye Ari, watching him with a perplexed look. He clears his throat at Lien’s use of the word ‘castrate’. “Well. If that’d be the only way for you to forgive me, my love, then…” His head bows, and he’s hopefully addressing a pair of calf-high leather boots that buckle at the ankle, but all gathered may get the idea he isn’t. “Sorry, gentlemen. We had a good run.” To Gavin ab Harkness, he says, quietly, “It’s Lien’s choice.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    The moustache disappears back into the backpack smoothly, as does the knife. Ari sneaks one more glance at Marisa dul Damassande, then looks to Lien. “…Shall we send for a priest, then?” he asks mildly, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. [Ari]

    Marisa dul Damassande’s attention remains on Franzorik ab Zadossa and Lien, not making its way towards Ari.

    “If Lord Zadossa still has intentions to marry me, then Master Astartes it might be wise for you to dig up that new suit of yours. And I’m afraid, you may just have to dance.” Lien looks down to the tangled a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging in her lap, adding. “Castrating you would only hurt me more in the long run.” [Lien]

    Remaining silent until Lien utters her words, Gavin ab Harkness sends a faint smile to Rothgar Astartes before murmuring, for his part: “Well, we need a priest. We’ve clearly got to see Master Rothgar Astartes dance.” Though his words are made in jest, he’s wholly serious– at least about the ‘fetching a priest’ part.

    Rothgar Astartes grunts, moving up the stairs with a deep frown upon his face. “Dancing…” He mutters, a deep frown upon his face as he pads quietly up the staircase.

    Rothgar Astartes leaves up, with short and powerful strides.

    “Right. I’ll just… go and fetch one,” Ari decides abruptly, dusting himself off. He tames his hair halfway with a few passes of his fingers, jamming it back into a tiny silver wreath set with pearls, holding back the hair, then turns for the exit. [Ari]

    Ari wears a tiny silver wreath set with pearls, holding back the hair on his head.

    “I should still very much like to marry you,” Franzorik ab Zadossa says quietly to Lien, shooting a glance after the large-stoned face man, his fingers still not dropping. To Marisa dul Damassande, he murmurs, quietly, “Lady Marisa, I was not having the best of days when I snapped at you, and for that I apologize. I’ll try to make it up to you.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a light smile back to Franzorik ab Zadossa, though her attention seems somewhat distant. “I weell do my best to think nothing further of eet. I can understand there ees times when one eesn’t at their best.”

    Ari leaves east.
    Rothgar Astartes arrives from above, with short and powerful strides.

    “Then we’ll have a marriage in short order,” Gavin ab Harkness confirms to Franzorik ab Zadossa as Ariel steps out, looking for that unattended priest. He reaches down then, offering Lien a brotherly pat upon her nearer, upper arm. “See, you can blame some waylaying Charali. I know this isn’t perfect, but the reception… we can just double our efforts on that,” he states.

    Rothgar Astartes comes down the stairs once more, a frown upon his face as he fitfully adjusts a golden, twice-wrapped sash, fastened with the Orban crest, working his jaw as he rubs at a few medals stuck to his broad chest, before looking to Lien and giving her the smallest of smiles. “This is acceptable, to M’lady?”

    Lien gets to her feet and sends off one of the serving girls to go find her brother. She pats Gavin ab Harkness’s side in return before looking to Franzorik ab Zadossa. “Then, we’re going to the Cathedral, we’ll have it there.. as originally intended.” She says, as she bends over to pick up a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging from the ground and starting to pin up her hair. “Though we’ll have to hurry.”

    Marisa dul Damassande gives an incline of her head back to Lien with a light smile. “Of course.”

    Rothgar Astartes nods to Lien, his eyes going about the room, finally resting on Franzorik ab Zadossa. “I shall meet thee all at the cathedral.” He rumbles, narrowing his eyes upon the man before heading out the door.

    …………

    By the Altar
    [Relatively Cool]
    Bathed entirely in light from attenuated crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling high above, this part of the church is wholly illuminated, no corner left unto the shadows. In the front, directly north of the Fountis Major, the altar seems uncharacteristically out of place– fashioned of unadorned, white ash and reinforced around the edges with tarnished bronze, the simple, rectangular object seems to have poorly withstood the ages. Behind it stands a small tabernacle of solid gold, and above it a large chalice of the same metal. Around the altar hang crimson velvet curtains, allowing one to draw closed the area around the dais; however, when not in use, they bunch together, tied off and securely harnessed to the wall. On both sides of the aisle directly in front of the room are lavish oaken pews replete with soft cushions, clearly roped off by
    thick red cords. Behind them are numerous additional pews, equally serviceable but lacking any soft comfort.

    (The Church has been newly restored. However, the pews where the noble seating once stood are devoid of cushions. All of the pews are equally appointed. The once fine cloths of the church stand empty, and only simple, tasteful adornments show on the altar and on the banners. A statue of St. Celeste has been moved into an inconspicuous corner, surrounded by a candlelight vigil. The faint smell of lavender and sandalwood permeates the air. )

    [ Exits: south ]
    A tall Cathedra of dark wood stands here. (northwestern corner)

    With a deep resounding tone, the church bells across the city sound to joyously ring in a wedding..

    Ari is already in the cathedral, speaking quietly to a short, plump woman with long pale hair. He’s moving away as the group arrives, setting in in the frontmost pew aisle-side seat – a place perhaps commonly reserved for family.

    Sophie Delvanis arrives from the south.
    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair arrives from the south.
    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair slows to a halt.

    Marisa dul Damassande moves up to a pew to settle down lightly. She gives a light smile up to Lien. Her entourage fans off to the side, out of the way.

    Sophie Delvanis enters the church and takes a seat silently near the middle of the pews.

    [Action: Franzorik ab Zadossa stands near the altar, a black ironwood cane, the top of which is detachable tucked under his arm, a plumed cavalier’s hat, right side pinned to the crown tilted rakishly to cover most of his bald head.]

    Lien reaches up and reattaches the veil amongst her dusky locks, pinning it in place so it falls back, rather than forward over her face. Her fingers smooth down over a shimmering silver silk skirt, opening at the front in a V, and her pale blue eyes go to Franzorik ab Zadossa, a faint if somewhat nervous grin forming.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs arrives from the south using a walking staff for support.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair flips a hooded cloak of black linen, dramatically full in its cut back over her shoulder.

    Rothgar Astartes arrives in with Lien, peeling away from her to stand by the door, quietly. He stands at attention, a few military medals upon display on his chest, a frown upon his face as he looks over the crowd. A hand plays about a golden, twice-wrapped sash, fastened with the Orban crest, fitfully, watching the crowd carefully as they enter.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair enters, moving quickly to a middling row for a seat to watch.

    [Action: a short, plump woman with long pale hair is standing up at the altar, in a priestess’s robes.]
    [Action: Sophie Delvanis is here in a pew near the middle of the rows.]
    [Action: Rothgar Astartes is here, standing by the door, watching the churchgoers.]
    [Action: a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair is sitting in a middling pew, observing.]

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs steps in from the cold weather outside, moving to the back and leaning against something for a brief moment, allowing his chilled legs to rework themselves into an oh-sweet-Jesus-that’s-not-cold-anymore state.

    A short, plump woman with long pale hair claps her hands together, giggling merrily as she looks between Franzorik ab Zadossa and Lien. “Married in a hurry?” she asks quietly. “Good for you, good. Just a quick ceremony to bless your union? Do you have rings?”

    [Action: Marisa dul Damassande sits in a pew near the front, by herself, her retinue standing off to the side not far off.]

    Franzorik ab Zadossa darts his tongue over his lips, glancing over Lien’s dress, a breath catching in his throat. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he mouths in Lithmorran to her, adjusting a plumed cavalier’s hat, right side pinned to the crown ever so slightly, then tugging at a tailored brocaded suede longcoat with a high collar. “Sorry I was late.”

    Ari watches Lien and Franzorik ab Zadossa with a little smile. It doesn’t seem to entirely reach his eyes, and his brow is furrowed. Anyone watching him closely will notice the small glances he keeps sneaking Marisa dul Damassande’s way, before his gaze resolutely returns to the couple.

    Lien glances nervously to Rothgar Astartes, her hand settling briefly upon his hip. She draws in an unsteady breath and starts to move up towards where Franzorik ab Zadossa stands with a short, plump woman with long pale hair, her fingers reaching down and pulling wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset out from a concealed purse and holding it out. “I have..” She says, glancing and blushing more than a little with his mouthed words.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs calls out to the altar from the back, his voice soaring over everything, “Ye go, Franz! Ye bloody go! Git to it!” From his tone of voice, you know, you just God damn -know- he’s got a giant grin under his hood.

    Marisa dul Damassande glances back over at the yelling cloaked person with a frown.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair looks over to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, brows knitting and shaking her head. “I do not think that was.. proper.”

    Sophie Delvanis looks back towards the a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs and shakes her head, looking warily to Ari as she turns around.

    Rothgar Astartes gives an encouraging, if incredibly faint, smile to Lien, motioning to Franzorik ab Zadossa with a gloved hand, medals jingling as he does so. The smile turns to a frown nearly instantly, reaching down to silence the medals with a great deal of irritation, shaking his head slowly.

    Ari actually seems to be distracted enough that he doesn’t even notice the shouting fellow; at least, his gaze remains fixed on the couple now, dead forward.

    You give wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset to a short, plump woman with long pale hair.

    “Oh no, you hold onto this – you give it to him,” a short, plump woman with long pale hair tells Lien, giggling as she hands it back. While they sort out the matter of the rings, she procures the silver and golden chalices from the altar, filling them with water from a chalice-marked flask. “And no heckling from the back there or you’ll have to do penance, I’m afraid!” [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs exclaims, “No ‘ecklin’ from me, on me word! I’m just ‘appy fer the lad is all!”

    Franzorik ab Zadossa passes over a white gold wedding band bearing a chalice of diamond quickly, or is about to, but he pauses, clearing his throat and glancing over to the pews. His eyes settle on Rothgar Astartes, and he watches him for a split second, before nodding to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs and Ari, glancing to Lien again, fiddling with a white gold wedding band bearing a chalice of diamond in his hand.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair lifts a hand to motion a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs to join her, though her faintly frowning features shift their attention forward to the couple once more with slight interest visable.

    Sophie Delvanis looks curiously at the goings on in the front of church, mouth in a very thin line.

    Ari turns his smile to Franzorik ab Zadossa and Lien, and sits straighter now; his expression seems to ease, hands folding in his lap. He nods, ever so slightly.

    Lien blushes as she takes the band back from a short, plump woman with long pale hair. She briefly leans her head in against Franzorik ab Zadossa’s side, before straightening back up again and adjusting the fall of a single tier, white mantilla veil with Vavardi lace edging over her hair. Drawing in a steading breath, she looks over towards Ari, a warm smile sent in his direction and the words ‘thank you’, whispered.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs subtly, or at least as subtly as a bumbling idiot can, makes his way to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair, his movements quiet but distracting if you were looking right at him. You know, Pink Panther-like, the good stuff.

    Rothgar Astartes just watches the scene unfold, watching the crowd more closely then the couple to be wed. His eyes settle on a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs for an unusual amount of time, a scowl appearing on his features as he does so.

    “Very well then! Let’s begin.” a short, plump woman with long pale hair turns a beatific smile to the couple, clasping her hands together in front of her. “We gather here in the house of the Lord to celebrate the joining of two souls, Lady Lien le Storm, Baroness of Strongjaw, and Lord Franzorik ab Zadossa, Marquis of Zadossa. They come together in His intended fashion: the holy rite of marriage. Marriage takes that which is separate, divided and incomplete, and makes it whole. A whole that is greater than its parts, as from this union rises the miracle of new life. This commitment lasts a lifetime, and cannot be entered into lightly. The couple must vow their intent here before their loved ones and the Lord. My Lady, my Lord, do you wish to state your own vows or swear what I have prepared?” [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    Ari tips a little wink toward Lien, and with that seems fully his own self again; indeed, as a short, plump woman with long pale hair talks he begins to grin wider and wider, a certain warmth suffusing his expression.

    “I’ve my own vows, if you do not mind, Mother,” Franzorik ab Zadossa says a little quietly, clearing his throat, glancing to a short, plump woman with long pale hair, then down at Lien, his hand moving to find hers, his fingers threading through her own. [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    “I am happy to speak freely too, if that is permitted, I’ve not anything prepared but… ” Lien grins back to Ari and then soon brings her attention back to a short, plump woman with long pale hair and Franzorik ab Zadossa next to her. Her fingers twist wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset against her palm whilst the other reaches and takes Franzorik ab Zadossa’s next to her. [Lien]

    “Say what you feel and the commitment you wish to swear, and I will honor it in the Lord’s name,” a short, plump woman with long pale hair pronounces, almost solemnly; her eyes are twinkling away, however. “Please begin, my lord Zadossa.” [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    Sophie Delvanis sits in the pew watching the proceedings, very quiet and still, a grin slowly creeping up on her face.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair smiles to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs as he sits beside her before turning her attention back to the mother and couple with a curious gaze.

    “I am yours,” Franzorik ab Zadossa begins. “If you feel cold, I’ll reach for a blanket to wrap around the both of us. If you feel hungry, I’ll go to the garden and dig us up some potatoes. You ask for a few words of comfort and guidance and I’ll give what I got and fetch a whole book full of them. If you’re ever lonely, I’ll find another daisy chain and wrap it about us both. I promise to be your companion for life. This is our union, what it is to me.” He draws out an exhale. “I’m yours. Forever.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    Ari ‘s expression softens as he hears this vow, the grin gentling to a blatantly sentimental smile.

    A short, plump woman with long pale hair favors Franzorik ab Zadossa with an approving beam, reaching up to wipe at one eye daintily with a gloved hand, and then turns to Lien. Her expression is clearly expectant, her fingers tapping together lightly where her hands rest against each other.

    Rothgar Astartes grunts some kind of affirmation to the vow, looking up at Franzorik ab Zadossa with a bit of a frown, eyes not sticking for long upon him as they fitfully examine the room and those within it.

    “We’ll need to get a garden. For the potatoes.” Lien says quietly at first, the hand within Franzorik ab Zadossa’s tightening, whilst the one holding the band rests lightly against her stomach. The observant might notice it is a little more curved, though it could just be the layers of silk that make up a strapless bodice with layers of wrapped soft, silver silk she wears. Or perhaps she’s just been eating a lot. “Thank you, for making me happy. For accepting me. For loving me. I am Tubori. And so for me, love matters. And I love you, always, and I’m not afraid to admit that. Not even in Lithmore.” [Lien]

    A short, plump woman with long pale hair looks perhaps a little more puzzled by Lien’s vow, but her smile hardly falters. “Now, as you have rings,” she proclaims, “please ready them. My Lord Zadossa, if you would place the ring on your soon-to-be wife’s finger, and repeat after me: Let this ring mark our union in the sight of all. Like our union, it is precious. Like our union, it does not end. With this ring, I name you my wife and companion before the Lord.”

    “Let this ring mark our union,” begins Franzorik ab Zadossa, as he lifts Lien’s wrist, his fingers wrapped about it, sliding ring over her gloved fingers for the time being, and then lifting it to his lips, to kiss at a knuckle, “in the sight of all. Like our union, it is precious. Like our union, it does not end. With this ring, I name you my wife and companion before the Lord.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    “My lady Storm, if you would now place the ring on your soon-to-be husband’s finger, and repeat after me: Let this ring mark our union in the sight of all. Like our union, it is precious. Like our union, it does not end. With this ring, I name you my husband and companion before the Lord.” a short, plump woman with long pale hair repeats the words with only the one small change, gaze riveted to the two’s hands. [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    Franzorik ab Zadossa gives you a white gold wedding band bearing a chalice of diamond.

    Is that a sniffle from the front row? No way. But anyone who’s looking closely might just happen to see Ari sneak out a bloodstained silken handkerchief, monogrammed with A.o.O. and brush it over his face with suspicious speed. [Ari]

    Lien looks down at the ring as it is slid over her gloved finger, dimples firmly set upon her cheeks as she smiles. Taking wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset in hand, she reaches out to gently slide it upon Franzorik ab Zadossa’s finger. Her own hands shaking more than a little, nervous as she starts to speak in a less than steady voice. “Let this ring mark our union in the sight of all. Like our union, it is precious. Like our union, it does not end. With this ring, I name you my husband and companion before the Lord.”

    Sophie Delvanis watches the exchange of rings going on at the front carefully, eyes darting from to Ari briefly but mostly staying on Lien.

    Rothgar Astartes even looks towards Lien with something that may seem like pride, a bit of a smile taking his face. With the noise in the front, he looks towards Ari, giving him a wider smile but saying naught, eyes soon moving back to the bride and groom.

    You give wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset to Franzorik ab Zadossa.
    You wear a white gold wedding band bearing a chalice of diamond on your left finger.

    “Great, just great!” a short, plump woman with long pale hair claps her hands together, then reaches for the two Chalices; she holds them high for the crowd to see, the beaten gold and silver shimmering. “There is one final ritual to be observed. As fire and water both join in His most sacred rites, so do man and women unite in matrimony. Drink from the Chalice to know His blessing, and join your lips to commingle the springs of your life into one great river.” The golden chalice is offered to Franzorik ab Zadossa; the silver one, to Lien. [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    Staring down at wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset carefully, Franzorik ab Zadossa clears his throat and then glances up at a short, plump woman with long pale hair, taking the chalice and dipping his head, giving her a small smile before he lifts it to his lips and drinks from it, turning to face Lien more solidly. [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    Lien reaches out to take the silver chalice from a short, plump woman with long pale hair, her pale blue eyes briefly glance over towards where Ari sits before returning to Franzorik ab Zadossa. Watching her husband to be, she brings the chalice up to her lips and drinks. Once finished, she returns it to the priest.

    Yep. That stained hanky is still hovering at the ready, and it in fact makes another hurried pass over Ari’s eyes as Lien looks his way. When it lowers he’s flushing a little, brows knitted if vexed, but his smile is as wide as ever. [Ari]

    A short, plump woman with long pale hair takes both chalices back and sets them down softly on the altar, then glances from Franzorik ab Zadossa to Lien with a gleam in her eye and an encouraging grin. “Go ahead now,” she perhaps breaks tradition to urge. “Seal your marriage with a kiss!”

    a short, plump woman with long pale hair marries you to Franzorik ab Zadossa.

    Rothgar Astartes looks between Franzorik ab Zadossa and Lien, a smile upon his face, giving a sigh of happiness as the rings go on and the chalice is drunk from. The smile fades a bit at the mention of a kiss, but he says nothing, instead opting merely to bring his overlarge hands together in applause.

    Marisa dul Damassande gives a faint smile up, though her attention remains distant.

    Sophie Delvanis looks between Ari and Lien, a curious look on her face. She shakes her head and lets a slight grin come to her face, though she does not clap as Rothgar Astartes does.

    Franzorik ab Zadossa lifts his hand to Lien’s face, the one bearing wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset, tilting it up if allowed so that her lips can find his. His head tilts so their noses don’t bump, and while he keeps it Church appropriate, it’s a long, lingering kiss.

    Ari claps a little himself; quite decorously, and the sound is muffled a bit by the hanky. His expression tells all the happiness the applause doesn’t quite convey, with brows soon relaxing back into calm and then even cheerful lines.

    “Oh I do so love a wedding,” a short, plump woman with long pale hair murmurs to herself, crossing her arms over her chest and watching the kiss with a calm smile of approval. “Lord Franzorik and Lady Lien ab Zadossa, everyone!” [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair brings her hands together in an approving, but soft little clapping as the sound in hollowed by a set of fitted leather gloves lined with light blue cotton.

    Anyone who looks closely might notice a small nip given against Franzorik ab Zadossa’s bottom lip before Lien returns the gentle kiss, her own hands coming up to both rest on either side of his hips. Blushing furiously at the clapping, she eventually breaks the kiss and rests her brow briefly against her now husband’s chest before turning to face the pews of people. [Lien]

    Ari rises to his feet, still clapping softly, as the kiss ends. He does cease his applause then, but only so he can move up the aisle (tucking the hanky away subtly) to offer a hand to Franzorik ab Zadossa. “Welcome to the family, Marquis ab Zadossa.”

    Sophie Delvanis keeps the slight grin on her face, intoning a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair’s clapping.

    Marisa dul Damassande brings her hands up to applaud lightly with a soft smile, seeming more genuine now.

    Rothgar Astartes stops his clapping, a frown coming over his face at the general inability of others to clap, clearing his throat with a scowl before quietly adjusting charcoal-black linen gloves with brass buttons at the wrist and falling back deeper into the church.

    The wedding complete, a short, plump woman with long pale hair aims to quietly make her exit down a side aisle towards the front of the Church, skirting around the celebrating crowd. [a short, plump woman with long pale hair]

    A short, plump woman with long pale hair leaves south.

    Marisa dul Damassande rises up to her feet, looking around among the others at the retreat of the priestess.

    Lien grazes her teeth over her bottom lip, taking the time to look over the ring that now adorns her finger, tilting her hand to the left and right and nodding approvingly at the sparkle. She holds it out for Ari to look over when he nears grinning.

    Sophie Delvanis gets to her feet, stopping her clapping. Her gaze lingers on Ari and Lien for a second before she looks over to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair and a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with fu

    Franzorik ab Zadossa clears his throat, his arm wrapping about Lien’s waist, pulling her close to his side, kissing at her temple, his eyes darting over to crowd gathered, lifting a hand, as if in victory.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair rises slowly, smoothing pale blue linen skirts, cascading freely to meet the ground as Sophie Delvanis stands a pew or so ahead. She smiles to the woman.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair stands up.

    “Oh, very nice,” Ari tells Lien, laughing softly as he glances down to look the ring over. “Very nice indeed. I can’t believe my little sister is married now. Congratulations, Lien… I wish the both of you all the happiness in the world. Best take good care of her,” he tells Franzorik ab Zadossa lightly. A brief glance is snuck over his shoulder, his gaze seemingly searching the crowd for something or someone. [Ari]

    Marisa dul Damassande passes an elegant package off to a tall, slender manservant with light brown hair with a few whispered words.

    Marisa dul Damassande gives an elegant package to a tall, slender manservant with light brown hair.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs murmurs to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair, “Am I allowed to clap?”

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs facepalms (OOC Emote)

    Franzorik ab Zadossa clears his throat, spotting Ari’s hand, moving to grab onto it and shake it. “Ah, yes. Sorry. I’m a bit overwhelmed. Sorry.”

    A tall, slender manservant with light brown hair bows in response to Marisa dul Damassande’s words, moving up to the front and Lien. “M’lady, m’lord,” he murmurs softly, offering the package out.

    A tall, slender manservant with light brown hair gives you an elegant package.

    Rothgar Astartes picks his head up as Ari stands, looking to him with a raised brow, his head a few hands above many in the crowd.

    Ari shakes back, seemingly not batting an eyelash at the belated nature of the gesture. “That’s fine, only to be expected at a time like this. My home will always also be Lien’s home, in my book, and by extension yours.”

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair chuckles as she looks over to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, “Well, you can but most of us already did.”

    “Well, I have a suite in the Palace as well, but I’m thankful for your invitation,” Franzorik ab Zadossa murmurs, offering Ari a light smile, giving his hand a brief squeeze, then looking over wedding band braided from platinum, with a black onyx inset again. [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair chuckles as she looks over to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, “Well, you can but most of us already did.”

    Lien over towards a tall, slender manservant with light brown hair as the package is given to her. She looks for Marisa dul Damassande amongst the crowd and mouths a thankyou, her fingers already starting to pull it open as she leans against Franzorik ab Zadossa.

    A tall, slender manservant with light brown hair bows in response and retreats back to Marisa dul Damassande’s side, the lady smiling lightly back to Lien and look for the best path of retreat.

    Ari bows his head to Franzorik ab Zadossa, stepping back. “My gift for the two of you, I’ll offer later,” he states at a murmur. “Excuse me.” And without further ado he’s moving through the crowd, directly for Marisa dul Damassande.

    Marisa dul Damassande leaves south, hips swaying back and forth as she goes.
    A lithe male knight with wavy blond hair leaves south.
    A tall, slender manservant with light brown hair leaves south.
    A stocky, sandy-haired bodyguard with a square jaw leaves south.

    Lien stares down at the twin figures that make up each end of the book case, tracing their shape with the tip of her finger. She offers it out to Franzorik ab Zadossa next to her, showing it off. “See? I think it’s you and me.”

    Ari leaves south.

    You show Franzorik ab Zadossa a pair of charming bookend figures in jewel-inlaid hardwood.

    Rothgar Astartes watches the man leave, looking a bit crestfallen. He purses his lips, looking to the floor, before looking up to Lien and giving her a bit of a smile. He nods once, before quickly slipping out of the church himself, medals jangling in the reletive quiet.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs wrinkles his nose. “Well, then.” He abruptly stands up and claps loudly, cheering and wooping this way and that amidst bouts of “FRAAAAAAANZ! Awright, FRANZ! You go, FRANZ! Three cheers fer FRAAAANZ!”

    Rothgar Astartes leaves south, with short and powerful strides.

    Sophie Delvanis looks to a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, turns red at the commotion he is making, and facepalms.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair shakes her head at a person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, bumping into him carefully. “Calm down or you’ll be scolded.” She sighs dramatically.

    Franzorik ab Zadossa looks over the figures, blinking at them, his own fingers trailing over them now. “That’s remarkable craftsmanship,” he murmurs. “I was wondering who that ridiculously attractive… man was,” he teases his new wife.

    A person wearing an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs opens an emerald green cloak with an opulent hood lined with furs, revealing his identity.

    An aged, curly white-haired gentleman declares to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair, “Oh, I think yer scoldin’ me as it is!”

    An aged, curly white-haired gentleman calls back out to Franzorik ab Zadossa, “Ahh, ye remember me huh, ol’ boy!”

    Lien carefully puts the pair of figurines back in the package and holds it to her chest with one hand, the other sliding around Franzorik ab Zadossa’s waist. Catching sight of an aged, curly white-haired gentleman, she offers him a brief wave.

    Sophie Delvanis rolls her eyes at an aged, curly white-haired gentleman and sighs. She looks to him and says loudly, “You are impossible, you know that? In any case, don’t see nothing, don’t know nothin is the right motto about this, I think.”

    “I do remember you,” Franzorik ab Zadossa agrees to an aged, curly white-haired gentleman, tipping a plumed cavalier’s hat, right side pinned to the crown to him, leaving it at a rakish angle and giving him a wink. [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    An aged, curly white-haired gentleman beams at the crowd before continuing on, “Looks like that box did a lotta good fer ya!”

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair slides out of the pew, this requires sliding infront of an aged, curly white-haired gentleman in the close quarters and taking up his personal space. “I’m going to go for a walk. If you all will excuse me? Congratulations on your union My Lord, My Lady.”

    Sophie Delvanis smiles to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair and nods to her, “Be careful, Maena.”

    Franzorik ab Zadossa bows his head down to a chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair, giving her an easy smile. “Of course, Maena, was it? Thank you for attending.”

    An aged, curly white-haired gentleman clears his throat, taking a deep breath as if preparing to give a very long-winded congratulatory message…”I’m leavin’ now.”

    An aged, curly white-haired gentleman leaves south using a walking staff for support.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair offers a curtsy to them, “Indeed, Maena Sturmgard.” She offers in afterthought, a flush coloring her bronze-tanned cheeks.

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair states to Sophie Delvanis, Lien and Franzorik ab Zadossa, “Lord Bless”

    A chestnut eyed girl with mahogany hair leaves south.

    Sophie Delvanis grins to maena and aged as they start to leave. “Lord bless.”

    Sophie Delvanis notices that she is the only person in the room besides the two newlyweds from looking around and steps out of her pew. She looks to Franzorik ab Zadossa and Lien and says, “Congratulations. I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

    “Thank you, Sophie, yes?” Franzorik ab Zadossa murmurs to Sophie Delvanis, just shooting her a grin. “Thank you very much.” [Franzorik ab Zadossa]

    Lien offers Sophie Delvanis a smile, “Thank you, Miss.. Sophie.” She gives Franzorik ab Zadossa’s side a light squeeze whilst the other hand holds an elegant package against her stomach, concealing it largely from sight with the woman’s approach.

    Sophie Delvanis nods to Franzorik ab Zadossa and answers, “Aye, Sophie Delvanis,” rubbing the back of her neck. She says to the two, “Sorry about my friend. My personal philosophy on things like he does is ‘don’t see nothin, don’t know nothin’. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair.” She gives Lien a long look before turning around to start heading up the aisle.

    Lien gives Sophie Delvanis a brief wave before turning back towards Franzorik ab Zadossa and lightly tugging at his hand. “Shall we go home then?” She suggests, leaning against his side and looking more than a little tired.

    Sophie Delvanis leaves south.

    Posted by Stormy @ 11:41 am