A Lupecyll-Atlon Wedding Party
Log Info
- Title: A Lúpecyll-Atlon Wedding Party
- Emitter: Ravenstongue
- Place: Ylvaliel, the Mythwood - Grand Fest Hall
- Summary: The wedding of the year is done, and the guests gather in the Ylvaliel festhall to celebrate the marriage of Cor'lana and Telamon! Drinks, food, and dancing -- a proud declaration that even through the toughest times, love prevails.
Ylvaliel, the Mythwood - Grand Fest Hall
The ceremony was beautiful, short, and... well, it was very elven in flair, with a rather handsome and mysterious elvish (?) man in dark robes conducting it (that some might have recognized!), but the renowned adventurers Cor'lana (aka 'Ravenstongue') and Telamon are now Cor'lana and Telamon Lúpecyll-Atlon, with new curuchuil marks on their hands to indicate their nuptials to each other. The man officiating the ceremony had directed the crowd to the feast hall within the Grand Fest Hall, and added that everyone is free to serve themselves. A variety of cuisines from around Ea are prepared in large serving plates to be doled out by the staff of the fest hall upon request.
With the exception of the wedding cake, that is... as it's being carefully moved onto the table with the assistance of the maid of honor, Adelaide "Addy" Branfeax, a half-elf girl who looks startlingly like Cor'lana--save that she's about four inches taller and has bright green eyes. Given that they're cousins, the resemblance isn't that uncanny, however. "SAFE!" she announces as the three-tier cake stands tall and proud.
And just as Addy finishes bringing in the food, in come the bride and groom! Cor'lana has changed from her lovely lavender gown into something simpler and easier to move in, and she walks with Telamon to their specially indicated table. "Thank you all for coming!" she says with a wave. "Please, enjoy yourselves! Our night is your night!"
Telamon escorts Lana, his expression still full of wonder and joy. Dressed in a simpler outfit of white and gray, he sweeps the banquet hall with a careful eye. Evidently everything is in order, as he smiles, and beckons. "We'll cut the cake shortly, never fear. In the meantime, please feel free to refresh yourselves. It's an honor to have you here."
Dirk trundles into the fest hall, decked out in his Eliday finest. He'd been back at the back of the audience observing the ceremony, dabbing at the corner of his eyes with a lace hanky. But after ducking out for a brief moment for a quick constitutional (which is to say, a hurriedly bolted gulp from his whiskey flask), he's returned with a large box in his burly arms. He makes his way over to the two with an ear-to-ear smile on his snowy bearded face. "Congratulations, you two!" he booms cheerfully. He sets the box down on the table with a grunt (taking care not to jostle the wedding cake). It clanks ever so slightly as it comes to rest. "This is just a wee little summat I threw together fer ye both. Fer yer new household ye'll be makin' together." He takes a step back, reaching up to doff his tricorne, holding it between both hands. "I hope it's nae too disappointing," he says sheepishly.
A fluttering of dark wings graces the hall. A not unexpected presence, being that is is the marriage of one named after ravens, with an ever present albino familiar, and others serving a messengers of her grandfather.
The wings are different. A vulture's, and it lands at the feast table beside the food. The ugly, bald head stabs into a plate, tearing a strip. It hops once to get a better position, wings partly spread, showing greasy black feathers. No, a very, very dark grey, the difference is clear when the light hits right.
Aryia was the seamstress that worked overtime on the fantastical and intricate ceremonial attire for the bride and groom. She only finished the lace on the bride's dress last night on the ride up there.
She herself is donned in a verdant v-neck dress with a sheer fabric shawl wrapped around her. Short height is augmented with pointy heels. Her lips are painted gold, along with gold tinged cat eye flicking off her eyes with a dust of gold. However, gold painted lips are wrapped around a once sealed bottle.
Her other hand is occupied, intertwined with a human's. She raises the bottle to the two newly weds before going back to chugging it down as she makes her way across the space.
Carver wasn't invited to the formal part of the celebration, so she did not dress the part for someone who would be taking part of the formal half of a celebration; a matter she is secretly thankful for. It is not to say that she arrived with customary lack of preparation though. She is dressed in a loose halter top, which exposes her toned shoulder and arms that are scarred through with vibrant tattoos of Khazad-Aul runic script and totems of sky, war, and earth. Even her hair is braided back, beads laid in, favoring the colors she understands to be favored by the two bonding elves - lavendar and white. Finding platinum beads on an Adventurer's budget is hard.
She picks her way close enough to see what it could possibly be brought as a gift, perhaps because she has to follow UP the occasion with something less impressive?
Said human, Violet, moves with Aryia, hand in hand, through the hall. As ever, her violet streaked black hair is braided, though this with some extra ornamentation; rings of mirror polished bronze scribed with simple geometric shapes, her namesake blossoms tucked in over either ear, as well as silken ribbons of a sky blue to match her sleek gown. Her ears sparkle with silver studs for the occassion, and plum shadows her eyes and colors the fullness of her lips.
Her dark eyes drink deeply of the sights around her, though her maintains a demure air during the proceedings.
No one had told her to stop wearing it, and she didn't have any other dresses she could wear, so-
There was a quite colorful looking sith-makar in contrast to their silver scales, entered the room in a dress made up of numerous rainbow colored feathers, waiting for others to pass and make their way in before entering herself.
"Peace upon your nest Ravenstongue and Telamon, for what was once two is now a singular nest." The silver cleric greets, before she offers a large basket to the table as well. "I have heard it is custom to bring gifts for a new home and for enjoyment as well, so this one has brought several wines with them, and various household goods which may be found helpful. Congratulations again, to the both of you."
"Oh, my goodness! Dirk, thank you, how sweet! And Seyardu! Peace upon your nest, too. Your dress is... Why, it's fabulous!" Cor'lana says in appreciation as her eyes light up. She's not about to tell her fine silver-scaled friend that she resembles a rainbow chicken, after all.
And Addy snatches the offered gifts. "That'll be put in the gift pile for our bride and groom to open up later," she explains to Dirk and Seyardu. "This cake's gotta get cut soon or it's going to get to room temp and... You ever see, like, a stack of blocks about to fall because they were leaning over a bit? Yeah. It's not pretty."
Cor'lana blinks. "Oh, I didn't realize cake cutting was a matter of life and death," she replies. Her eyes scan the crowd, and a flash of recognition crosses her face as she recognizes people in the crowd of dining tables. "Let's see who all I can make out from the crowd. Aryia and Violet are here. Carver's here. And... I think that might be Ashlee over yonder? In vulture form, that is. I wonder where Dunny the screech owl is--"
Before the question can be answered, another familiar... familiar flaps in. The white-winged raven Apotheosis flaps in, wearing the same fetching bow-tie from the ceremony. He lands on Cor'lana's shoulder. "CAKE!" he demands.
"Okay, okay!" Cor'lana says with a laugh. Addy holds out the cutter utensil, and Cor'lana takes hold of it... partially. She gestures to Telamon to hold it with her. "Okay, three, two, one..."
And the cake opens. The first tier is a pleasantly light and pale-purple lemon-lavender, the second tier is the distinctive white raspberry, and the third tier is a decadant chocolate ganache. A combination that suits the couple rather well.
A barrel chested oruch man assists Addy with moving the gifts, evidently someone Telamon knows because he nods to the fellow and mouths a thank you. Tel himself blinks as well at Addy's insistence, and glances at Lana. "I didn't know either. Cooking classes at some point?"
The soft flap of wings heralds another guest, as an orange faerie dragon alights on the back of Telamon's chair. Watching with great interest, though not as pushy as Pothy is. Telamon takes hold of the cutter with Lana, and he glances at Seyardu and Dirk. "But thank you both. You've both been good friends and very kind to us." At Lana and Addy's nudging, though, he applies himself to helping open up the cake.
As the scents blossom forth, Tel's eyes widen. "...Wow. Addy, that's... how do you do that?"
Dirk winces as Addy goes to pick up his box. "Careful, lassie, it's got some weight to it!" he warns. She'll find it's more of a crate than a box, and it clanks as it's moved. But fortunately, it's moved without incident, and the old snowbeard relaxes. He looks up as Pothy wings in with a rumble of laughter. "Och, aren't you the handsome one?" he says with a grin. "Just as well Lulu isn't here, she'd be smitten!" But then, there's the call to cut the cake. And Dirk is never one to turn down free eats, especially when they're sweets! He watches with eager anticipation as the cake us cut, and he waves his tricorne over head. "WOOOO-HAH!" he cheers, whistling sharply through his teeth.
The vulture stops tearing at the food when she hears a familiar name. Her name, the information filters around her carrion bird-brain. Her head turns towards Cor'lana. There was something... right.
The vulture hops off the table and in one smooth transformation stretches out until she is a tall, skull-faced Arvek-Nar.
She was invited to a wedding, so she is dressed formally. The most formal a hobgoblin can get is their millitary armour, cleaned up, polished, with every permanent dent and scar on display. As a mourner and a medic, she only has a few, but her heavy cavalry armour is none-the-less impressive. A strangely muted mithril breastplate, blackened leathers, a skirt, a helm.
The question of where Dunny, and her other familiars and pets are, is indirectly answered as they emerge from her arms and cape, taking positions on her shoulders.
Her ears droop a little as she looks around. "I'm sorry. I get stuck in the moment and forgot to change back."
Aryia slows to a crawl as she peers at the cake being sliced. Her glowing eyes glimmer a bit brighter. To her, all the colors in the cake are quite a bit brighter and vibrant. She blinks briskly, then whistles loudly with others in celebration before giving a wave to those that she knows. Including a, "You still have that thing?" to Seyardu.
She leans into Violet, looking for a seat for them just as one bottle is emptied. Her head quirks to the side at the vulture and them changing, but this whole ceremony has all sorts of weird stuff going on. "Just a warning," she motions to Violet. "I'm going to be very, very drunk by the end of this."
Somehow, from somewhere, the mute mul'neissa pulls out another wax sealed bottle. <Handspeech>
"It's okay!" Cor'lana says brightly to Ashlee with a smile. "I understand, kind of. If you stick around in a bird form for a little too long, you start kind of thinking like the bird, right? Grandfather might know something about that--"
She looks around. "Where is Grandfather, anyway?"
"He left, I think," Addy says. She's starting to cut slices of cake for anyone who wants them, now that the bride and groom have done the traditional first slice. There is, thankfully, enough cake to go around for everyone. And, of course, she offers Telamon a wide, wide grin. "Thanks, cuz. I'm a professional. That means I bake a mean cake."
Cor'lana just... shrugs. "He probably just went outside for some fresh air," she remarks, before she has a bite of the first slice, and her eyes widen. She finishes the bite and says, "That is good. Everyone, please, help yourselves to some cake!"
"CAKE!" Pothy croons--and Addy just shoves a plate in front of him. His blue eyes go wide and he begins to gorge. That's probably not a look that Lulu would find attractive.
As Aryia's pace abates, Violet's does as well, as she spares the Mul'niessa a silent, quizzical look before following her angle of scrutiny.
She follows the cue to wave, adding her own modest smile and a wave to the display.
Feeling the dark elf lean into her, she turns her attention back just in time to catch the communicative gestures and the index finger of her clasped hand taps twice against it's partner.
She whispers, "I'll carry you. You brought your armbands, right?" with a little twinkle of mirth in her eyes. <Undercommon>
Then with another look around at all the assembled folks of various backgrounds, wealth and.... structural mutability, she signs a discrete, "What do we do, first?" <Handspeech>
"In his defense, I suspect this is more people than he's been around in a long, long time, love." Telamon lets Cor'lana have first crack at the cake, but he does take the second. "Oh my. Yes. Definitely. Addy, you're amazing -- I am very glad I introduced Algar to you." His dark eyes twinkle with good cheer, as he sits down with Cor'lana next to him.
"I still feel like I'm dreaming," he admits with a grin. He reaches over to take Lana's hand in his, squeezing it gently.
Ashlee nods, picking at her teeth and wondering what she had been eating. Dunny hops closer on her shoulder, leaning towards Cor'lana and Telamon, warbling "WhooOooOooo?"
"They're married. They have a new name." The Mourner explains.
"WhooOooOoo?"
Chippen, the house centipede, crawls on top of Ash's helmet and sits there like a crown.
Dirk lights up like a Yuletide tree as cake is offered, and he trundles forward. "Och, yes please!" he says. "I saved me appetite fer the feast. If I wait too much longer, I'll waste away tae nothin' but skin an' bones!" He slaps his hefty middle with a rumble of laughter. "Cannae be havin' that, now can we?" He avails himself of a piece of cake, grinning a bit at Pothy. "Now he's got the right idea!" he says with another laugh. Cutting himself a big bite of the delicious confection, he crams it into his mouth. "ROMF!" Immediately, his eyes roll, and he all but melts right where he stands. "Ohh... blesshud Dana... ish ish so goo'," he says through the mouthful.
"You are concerned about the cake falling apart in the heat?" Seyardu asks as she accepts a slice of the cake. "You should add a wooden sheet under each tier to distribute the weight evenly, if the supporting rods are not enough. I can understand though, as the cake looks well made."
"Yes, I still have this, why?" Seyardu asked. "I felt it was good to hold onto at least one dress in case a need arised, such as this."
Carver goes to collect her cake. Maybe she'll eat it too. After a moment, she sort of sidles up to Skullface Centipedecrown, and nudges her with an elbow. "So, what's with the bug?" Direct. To the point. Carver doesn't hide her intentional curiosity very well from Ashes.
"It's, well, the secon' time I seen the thin' all crawlin' on you like a favorite pet. Does it yell assorted profanities like the bride's bird? Can it do a trick?" Oooh. "Make it do a flip." A bright pinpoint flash of eagerness, burning hot. "Make it do a *back*flip. Those are way more impressive."
The Mourner steps up, taking Cor'lana and Telamon's hands, so recently pledged, and clasps them together, holding her own over and under. She stares at the half-elves, dark eyes deep in the sockets of her skull face. Ashlee is easily overlooked, most of the time, having and somehow projecting a mental image of herself as being much smaller. It's when she's close the details are noticed.
She's tall, her limbs are long compared to a human's, she has large knuckles and heavy 'monster hands' of a goblin. Her nails are nice, clean, but still thick. She naturally looms, and with her grey armour is the epitome of the Feiu's servants.
There's a flash in her eyes, as she looks into the future, "May your union be blessed. There will be trials ahead, involving a rook." Her eyes move to stare at Pothy, "not him." She resumes peering at the couple. "It may be your doom, but it can be overcome if you work together. Stay together."
Ashlee finishes her 'blessing' with a long glance at Telemon, but no additional words.
Disengaging, she faces Carver, shakes her head. "Chippen teaches me, and he dances. None of them swear."
Dunny does however ask Carver, "WhooOooOoOooo?"
"Fuck?" Pothy offers at the mention of profanities. That earns him a glare and a shush from Cor'lana... to which he just keeps eating cake. It appears the one he had to say was the only one he had to give.
Addy grins at Seyardu's suggestion for her cake. "I'm a baker, not a con artist with wooden sheets and fondant," she says. "It's just more structurally sound when it's colder, that's all. Glad folks are enjoying it! Stop by the Cheerful Corvid Coffee Shop back home in Alexandria for all of your sugary and coffee treats."
Cor'lana might offer Addy a rebuke for advertising her services, but Ashlee's prophecy has her attention. She blinks a couple of times, and she nods. "A rook," she says. "I... think I know who or what that might be. Thank you for the warning, Ashlee."
She turns to Telamon and kisses him on the cheek. "We'll be okay," she says. "Like she said, we'll just stay together in this waking dream we now live in." Cor'lana flashes a brilliant smile.
Aryia nods again to Violet, her relaying that the armbands were stored in the carriage that brought them there. The gestured question makes her ponder... "First. Cake." Her mind is made up. And the already drinking seamstress pugilist mute is making a beeline for cake, taking every flavor, and bringing enough for the two of them. Placing it on the table, she mentions, "Also, just have fun, there's a lot of interesting people here." Interesting, like.. Ashlee's blessing and fortune. A shake of the head, she sits, takes another swig, and her eyes flutter a bit as she looks out a window. Her brows raise, just a little twinkles of light appear around her eyes. "... h-ly sh-t T-l-m-n..." she hisses out, swaying a bit.
Her glittery gaze slides over to Seyardu. "I'm just surprised you still have it. I burned the one had to wear. I'm just worried you're going to get something caught in it. On it. Over it," she slurs a bit. Those that don't know her motions get the gist of it. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Telamon starts to open his mouth, but then just shakes his head. Can't blame a girl for trying to drum up business, and he offers Addy a slight smirk. As if to say, 'really?'. Meanwhile, the small orange faerie dragon has taken up a perch on Telamon's shoulder, and speaks in a squeaky voice, "You have my congratulations as well, my Lord Lúpecyll. May I have some of that cake too?"
Telamon can't help but chuckle. "Of course, Jyndei. And thank you for being patient." He secures a plate for his friend, placing it to the side so that the fey creature can sample it as well. While that's occurring, Tel blushes at the kiss, and smiles at Lana. "Absolutely. I'm not afraid of anything as long as I'm with you." He looks to Ashlee, and nods respectfully. "Thank you, Mourner. The warning will be heeded -- and we will be ready."
Dirk finishes shovelling cake into his bearded maw, scraping up frosting and crumbs with his fork and licking it clean. He looks mournfully at his empty plate, but sets it aside. He does have some manners. Sort of. He looks over at Lana and Telamon as Ashlee pronounces that bit of prophecy. "Bah! After all the things we've faced, a rook surely cannae cause that much harm, can it?" He puffs up his burly chest proudly. "Well! You two know ye can call on me if ye ever have the need! If some rook decides tae play cute, why, I've got a bullet with its name right on it!" He pauses. "I mean, not literally, but give me a few ticks an' I can write its name on one!"
Carver looks to her left, then her right, before finally spotting the blown-out pupil of a tiny owl. It's a whole damn zoo in 'ere. She squints, trying hard not to break out into a smile. Holding it together, just barely. "Chippen. Thas' the crawly? I don't really keep 'em as pets but as far as crawly pets go, I guess thassa good 'ne." Hmm. Mmmm. "Well, dancing is almost like doing a flip. So, here..."
She takes a bite of her cake before putting it down. "Chippen teaches you. Also, Chippen dances. Tha' means Chippen taught you to dance." So, the Dran refugee goes to hook an elbow with the Mourner. "So tha' means you can dance. Come on with ya scary arse, let's go make your teacher proud."
'Fondant'?
A pursuit for later.
Violet seems to accept Aryia's directive as stated, as the Mul'niessa makes a plundering sortie of the celebratory confections.
There's a soft, "Thank you, dearest." as she recieves her split of the bounty, then follows the guidance toward the other guests. <Sildanyari>
She smiles to Seyardu in the wake of her paramour's greeting, "You look wonderful, Seyardu!"
She rises, then, sighing a quick, "I'll be right back." before she approaches the newly bound union. <Handspeech>
With her usual shy smile, and a faint rose tinge warming the splash of freckles across cheeks and nose, she intones a gentle, "It was a wonderful ceremony, congratulations and brightest wishes for your life going forward, together."
Ashlee nods again, stepping back with a bow, straightening up and staring at the pair. In moments like these, she's unsure what to do, and as the moment goes on she gets more uncertain. Carver is a welcome distraction and she turns to stare at the human next. Her logic is impeccable.
"Okay."
The Mourner moves away from the happy couple to a place where she can demonstrate her skills. A little explanation is needed, "He's an exotic dancer. I can't show you all the moves."
She dances.
"Burn it? That would be a waste of a dress really. Thank you Ravenstongue, that is kind of you to say." The silver makari offers. "I would not be concerned about it ripping or falling over, it is not like I am unused to that happening anyways, though I would rather avoid it."
She looks like she has more she would like to say to Addy, but the silver makari shakes her head and continues on her way over to where Aryia and Violet were situated. "Good to see you again Violet, I hope you are enjoying the reception?"
Aryia shoots a thumbs up towards Violet as she is left to her own devices, the mute seamstress drowning her stress in delicious cake (her share doesn't last very long) and booze (another bottle down, another one comes out of no where.
She abruptly stops. Cheeks full of fondant and a multitude of flavors. Shining, twinkling eyes are locked on- She gulps it all down. "Dw-gon..." she whispers quietly.
The drunk mul'neissa gives a wave to Seyardu as the silverscale approaches, but she's already up and gone to make her way to Jyndei.
The musicians in the feast hall, thankfully, provide music for Ashlee, Carver, and anyone else who might want to dance to, well, dance. It's maybe not the sort of music someone who learned how to dance from a centipede might want to dance to, as it's more of an upbeat sildanyari folk song on the nature of love, but there it is, anyway.
"Look at them go," Cor'lana murmurs with surprise to Ashlee and Carver, before she looks over to Violet with a smile, just as Seyardu does. "Hi! Violet, right? It's been a while. I'm so happy you could make it here with Aryia," she calls out.
Pothy, meanwhile, is going for seconds, and gives Dirk a look that roughly reads: Abandon shame. Embrace snacks. Addy gives him another plate--and Dirk another plate, too. "Anyone who keeps my cousin and her hubby safe is a friend of mine," she says with a grin.
GAME: Carver rolls Performance at 0: (17)+Performance at 0: 17 GAME: Ashes rolls performance/dance: (19)+performance/dance: 19
Telamon blinks as he watches Carver drag Ashlee off for a dance. "Well," he says, after taking a drink. "I didn't expect that, but it's cheering to see nonetheless." He offers Violet a happy grin as well. "Thank you very much. You and Aryia are very welcome here, obviously -- we are definitely in your debt."
Tel watches Addy pile on more cake for Dirk and Pothy, and just shakes his head with a grin. "While we live, let us live," he comments. Movement catches his eye, and both Tel and Jyndei turn to look at Aryia approaching. Tel smiles, and gestures. "Aryia, I don't know if you've been introduced. This is Jyndei, a faerie dragon from Quelynos." The dragon flutters his butterfly wings, flicks his tail, and looks up at Aryia with large luminous eyes, blinking. "Good day."
Squint. "No, he's not." Carver refuses to believe the Mourner's insinuation, that her Chippen is a peddler of foreign delights. "Jus' because he got legs don't mean he knows how to use 'em. You're blowin' smoke up a chimney."
They cut through the crowd, to somewhere that might not be out of the way but at least won't immediately cause marital strife or physical harm depending on exactly how good of a dancer they both are. She smoothes out her tunic. "Jus' so you know. I don't even think he could show me much of anythin'. I'm pretty well known for my grace." Ahem. Pause. She looks a little askance. "Be easier with music." Without it, she'll have to imagine a beat... thinking...
Ah, dwarven folk. She stomps. One, two. One, two. To get an idea for the rythm and gives the Mourner one too. Then, she extends a hand, palm up, to her dance partner with a grin.
"He taught me how to weave baskets." Ashlee explains, as she joins Carver. Armour does not lend itself to dancing, nor heeled cavalry boots. She's oddly silent despite the heaviness of her gear. She brushes her hair back, as Dunny, Chippen, and her other friends move to safer places in that armour. She duplicates Carven's stomping. "I saved a life, with basket weaving."
Not so with her dancing.
She takes Carver's hand and manages to match the beat and steps.
Dirk perks up brightly as Addy hands him a fresh slab of cake. "Ohh marry me, goddess!" he booms happily. He grins ear to ear as he takes up his fork and goes on the offensive. Shame? What shame? Dwarves are hearty eaters, there's no shame in that! "ROMF!" He beams at Pothy, nodding in agreement with the corvid as he munches happily. "Well, Master Telamon an' Missus Cor'lana are good friends o 'mine!" he says to Addy. "An' any dwarf worth the beard on his face knows tae look out fer his friends, nay?"
Violet's share may be in jeapordy....
She answers Seyardu with a smile, "It's very nice, so many new things to see. How about you?"
On Cor'lana's return she smiles, "It has, I'm-!" a glance back toward Aryia stuffing her face, "-we're so glad to see you well!"
The human finds some interest in the dancing spectacles that are begining and her eyebrows arch. A moment's pause and she affords the pair a curtsey before she ventures back to rejoin Aryia's side, noting, "Very lively." in a soft voice.
"They do seem to be enjoying themselves up there. I would go but, I would likely take the whole dance floor down with me." Seyardu laughss. "Ah, a faerie dragon? This wedding is certainly blessed." She notes, before turning her attention back to the Violet before she leaves. "If you wish to dance, you should ask Aryia now, while she is still capable of doing so. It sounds like a good idea to me."
This is about the third finished magic Telamon booze that Aryia has imbibed, her eyes wide as the groom introduces her to the fearie dragon. There's a small field of twinkling lights trailing from where her eyes pass by. "... holy shit you're so tiny and cute..." she gestures slowly. Every twinkle making a kaleidoscope of color appear in her vision. So a colorful faerie dragon...
She nods with Violet's assessment of the party, but she's absolutely drunk-transfixed on the widdle-dwagon. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Addy can't help but giggle. "Considering I might be marrying Telamon's cousin, I'm going to have to decline your proposal," she says with a grin to Dirk. "Tel, where's that cousin of yours, anyway? Oh, Algar~!" she calls into the crowd.
"He's being smart and saving himself," Cor'lana says with a whisper and a snicker into Telamon's ear, followed by another kiss to the cheek. "Seyardu does have a point. Tel, are you still eating cake, or should we join the dancing festivities? No pressure."
Pothy stares mid-monch at Cor'lana. There is, in fact, pressure. His eyes rest on the remainder of the cake that they have. He wants it. His tail feathers wag up and down in anticipation. It is his solemn duty as Cor'lana's familiar to clean up after her. That's why every plate in the Lúpecyll-Atlon household is clean! "Snacks?" he asks.
Jyndei, for his part, preens under the attention. He is a very small dragon, yes, and very cute, but he's not immune to flattery or praise. "Go dance, milord," the dragon addresses Telamon with a cheerful note. "I shall monitor the disbursement of foodstuffs and protect your seats." Hard to tell if he's kidding or not, but the answer is 'probably'.
Tel nods, taking another slow sip of his wine before looking to Lana. "Of all the things we scrambled to do and we didn't bother with dance lessons. Ah well... we're both reasonably sober, agile, and clever. Let's just make it up as we go along." He offers Lana his arm. "Shall we?"
"Really?" Carver asks, as the dancing duo step in and out of their routine, occasionally nearly colliding but somehow never quite bumbling into the other. Any true practioner of dance would watch them and see the obvious amatuerism, but to the untrained eye? They sort of look like they're something like N'sync.
"I seen alot of things, but saving someone's life with basket weaving? Migh' as well be underwater too." She scrambles her brain to try to think of an equally impressive feat. Work, damn you brain!
"I, uh, had my firs' kiss after a bar brawl where I got my firs' scar." It's not much but it's honest work. She gets struck with inspiration, moving in closer with the next step and trying to slip an arm around the much taller woman waist so she can perform the 'Dip'.
There is fashionably late, and then there is just plain tardy. Patch had made promises to come, but it isn't until now during the after-service that she arrives. She comes with a wrapped package, one that suspiciously looks like a bottle as she places it on one of the back tables, skirting the crowd and dancing. She's a bit removed from the event, though it is known she has a dislike for the Mythwood, but she has come regardless -- smiling even. Eyes seeks to spot the bride and groom, weaving at her own pace as she searches for a place to loom.
Dirk finishes his second slab of cake with a happy sigh. "Oh, beards o' me fathers, that's the best cake I've ever put in me mouth. His ears perk a bit, and he glances over towards Patch as she arrives. A warm smile creases his leathery features, and he puffs up his burly chest. He licks his fingertips, briskly smoothing his hair back and combing his fingers through his beard. Giving the lapels of his handsome frock coat a tug, he lumbers over with a smile. "So good tae see ye again, Patch," he says. "I hope ye've been keepin' well." He glances towards the musicians, then back over to Patch. He offers up a hand. "Would ye join me in a dance, lass?" he asks, putting on his most charming smile.
Stranger things have happened.
Violet's smile brightens as she rejoins Aryia's side, "Oh, I'm not sure where to begin, but it seems she's already made a new friend."
She dips in a curtsey for the little dragon, "Hello, it's nice to meet you!"
"No, we saved the mermaid on land." Ashlee explains. Step, stomp, stomp, spin, step. "The basket weaving was to hold a soul."
Her movements get stiffer as Carver slips in and embraces her waist. This is one of those moments where she wants to consult her pamphlet, even though she knows it doesn't have a section on dancing. Nor kissing. When was her first? Do ghosts or imaginary friends count? "I don't go to bar brawls."
Really, when does she kiss at all? Do funerals count? "I kiss dead people." Smoooooth.
Aryia has a hazy sort of drunk focus, her somewhat going around the table sloooowly to inspect Jyndei. "Holy shit... tiny guy, can you like... unfold your wings...? I think I can... can make a cloak that looks like it..." the inebriated seamstress gestures.
She looks up to Violet. Her eyes grow wider. "... do you want to dance, V?" Aryia motions, her glimmery attention flowing over all that are present. Starting to dance. Dancing. The colors, so shiny! <Handspeech/Tongues>
"Yes, get out there as well Ravenstongue and Telamon, it is a day for dancing and celebration, so it is yours to make the most of it." Seyardu grins, before taking a seat at the vacant table to relax and enjoy her cake.
Carver and the Mourner's gaze meet, as the Dran refugee dips the other woman low. She can feel the strain in her shoulders and arms, the height difference between the two leaving angles awkward and off. Speaking of which,
"I kiss dead people."
Brown eyes flaked with green go wide, darting across the horrid visage painted in memory of the Mourner's first love; a leering skull on which the Arvek Nar stares blankly back into her. She can feel the chill of sweat on her bare back. Slowly, Carver pulls Ashes back to an upright position. The arm unwinds around the waist.
Awkwardly, the ranger shakes the woman's hand freed hands. Then hastily departs.
Stjepan arrives as inconspicuously as a giantborn can, dressed in a well-tailored grey suit with a rainbow scarf, and carrying a large box under one arm. He looks around, and blinks. That's a lot of people.
Cor'lana's ears perk up at the sound of a name. "Patch?--Sister!" she says, spotting the bard in the crowd. "Telamon and I were just about to go for our first dance!" She springs up from her seat and goes to give her a hug. She may look a bit funny with a light layer of makeup and lipstick, as well as her hair being put up into a rather complicated braid, but it's still Cor'lana nonetheless--including no chastisement whatsoever for the tardiness. "I'll leave you to dance with Mister Dirk, though. Don't let me hog you!"
She walks back to her husband--a thing she can say now!--and takes Telamon's arm, grinning at him. "Let's go," she says. "Dance with me until the night is day again."
Pothy blinks. "Oh no," he says. He can recognize a feytouched whim of Cor'lana's when he sees it, and he looks over to Jyndei...
And he keeps eating cake. He crows in greeting to Stjepan, too. Might as well have company for the peanut gallery. Snacks gallery, even.
Telamon escorts Lana, of course, and he smiles broadly upon seeing Patch. "Don't worry. Dirk's a gentleman. Or perhaps the khazadi phrase 'well-forged' is more appropriate. Can't speak to his dancing skills, though I've no room to talk." When Lana returns to him, he looks into her eyes. "Absolutely. What is time, when it's the two of us together?"
And so Telamon leads Lana out onto the dance floor, as the musicians strike up a slower but no less heartfelt tune, warm and welcoming. An appropriate song for the first dance of newlyweds.
The human's examination of the faerie dragon takes some moments as Aryia requests further study. Violet takes a moment to catch the query signed her way, and it prompts a blink, "Ah, yes, of course!"
Inwardly, she's juggling the numbers around their relative experience, and a well established level of inebriation, but she'll give it her best.
She offers the Mul'niessa a hand while the others make up their dance cards or tell some.... rather singular stories.
Or Pothy all the snacks.
"Shall we then?" <Sildanyari>
Patch eagerly returns that hug from Cor'lana, a firm squeeze given just before it ends. "Sister, you look absolutely beautiful." she says first, a slight flush appearing because those shared words. "It is I who should share, Cor'lana. It is your and Master Telamon's night. Go, enjoy. You know you'll see me soon enough." she muses as Telamon's words provoke a warm grin, winking as he takes his bride to do party things.
"Master Dirk and I are known to one another." Patch says as she glances towards the dwarf, taking his hand. "I had hoped to just be a shadow here, but if you would dare ask? Assuredly, we shall." she says, letting Dirk take the lead.
Oh. That was the wrong thing to say. Ashes watches as Carver abandons her, raising her hand to her nose. She can smell the human sweat on her palm. She remains still, her eyes looking one side, then the other, until she finds a suitably shadowy place to slip into and lurk.
The fae dragon catches her attention. She stares. It's a real dragon. The last one she saw was a creature of the void. There are differences, size significantly, but many other features vary from the ones seared into her memory as it sunk into the lava. It died. She nearly did too.
Other people are dancing, so she watches them and slowly eats some melon balls from the banquet table, one morsel at a time.
"Maybe not all night, that sounds like a recipe for severe exhaustion, but I admire your enthusiasm." Seyardu laughs. The silver makari stretches and rests her arms over the back of the chair she was on to watch the rest of the dancers, hoping to pick up some tips, if she could manage to see what they were doing properly.
Aryia watches Cor'lana hugging... what was her name? Potch? Pitch? An ear twitches. Oh, right, Patch! They're sisters? Perhaps its similar to herself and her own sister.
Such attention shifts to the faux pas going on the dance floor. She winces a bit. If its any assurance, she gestures across the way to the Nar- "The dragon is very cute." Yes. the faerire dragon has been relegated to the cat of the party.
The mute grins. Grabs Violet's hand, and slides over to the dance floor. <Handspeech/Tongues>
GAME: Aryia rolls perform/dance: (10)+4: 14
Old memories, yet hazy, lend well to busting a move. She'll regret it in the morning.
GAME: Venom rolls perform/dance: (20)+2: 22 GAME: Dirk rolls Performance/Dance: (19)+Performance/Dance: 19 GAME: Patch rolls perform/dance: (11)+9: 20
Dirk can't help but preen as Patch takes his hand. He offers Lana and Tel a warm smile, tapping the side of his nose with his free hand. "You two enjoy. We'll just be off on our own, nay?" He turns his smile on Patch as he lumbers to the dance floor with her. He turns, holding her hand with one of his, while setting the other on her hip. And just like that, he begins a shockingly graceful turn around the floor. Those yuge boots of his never once trip or clomp on her toes as he steps nimbly from step to step. Turn, wheel, change, and spin. Who knew the old ranger was such an accomplished dancer?
Violet's eyes flit tither and yon whilst she follows Aryia's lead out to the dance floor, guaging and plotting movement to rythm, trying to predict the acceptable routine of motion.
It works better than their first dance routine.
And the second, by orders of magnitude.
With her hands settling upon her paramour's proper places, she joins Aryia in the dance, taking a incrementally more guiding influence on the pairing as the song, and her confidence, progresses.
The bride and groom stay close together. Cor'lana manages to dance well enough, only coming close once to stepping on Telamon's shoe and managing to realize it at the last second by the time the song ends. She leans in and kisses him as it concludes, her eyes twinkling happily. "Look at that," she says. "No bloody toes yet."
Pothy bird-blinks at that. "Wow!" he declares. It appears he expected Cor'lana to crash and burn on her first go. Maybe Ceinara has seen it fit to ensure the happy couple's first dance together in marriage went without a hitch.
Jyndei is quite happy to show off his wings, blinking at Aryia as he reaches down to collect a pawful of cake and nibble it delicately. Then the little dragon peers over at where Lana and Telamon are dancing. "They are unskilled," Jyndei comments, "but there is passion there, and happiness. If they wish to explore the intricacies of dance they would be apt pupils."
Meanwhile, Telamon is a touch breathless. Not from literally losing his breath, but from getting through the first dance without stepping on Lana's feet, or falling over, or... you get the idea. "If we make a habit of this, perhaps we should get some lessons," he replies with a smile. "Something to occupy us in our copious free time." His eyes are dancing, teasing, and happy.
Patch drapes an arm on Dirk's shoulder, her other hand held by his as she lets the larger dwarf take the lead. The actual dance, and deft turns and wheels leave her with a raised brow. "Simple Dwarf of the forest, I think not." she says in tease, seemingly impressed as the man's spin leaves her with a wry grin once he draws her in once more. "I didn't imagine dancing being a cabin sport."
Upon seeing that soft kiss, and dance of the hosts, Patch lets her eyes linger, appreciating a happy moment on the couples behalf. "You never told me how you met the lucky couple." she mentions to Dirk, looking back to him as the first round of their dance starts to come to close. "We have stories to share sometime I think."
Dirk finishes the dance, taking a step back and sweeping a low bow with a chuckle. "Oh, I'm full o' surprises, I'll warrant," he says. "Ye dinnae get tae be my age wi'out pickin' up a few tricks." He grins a bit. "I've had a few adventures wi' Master Telamon an' Missus Cor'lana. An' I'm a frequent patron o' her cousin's coffee shop. Ye ever been? Excellent pastries!" He laughs softly, nodding his head. "But aye, I expect we've plenty o' stories tae share. Maybe if ye ever make it out tae me cabin fer supper, we can swap some, eh?"
Aryia dances with Violet. Well. Perhaps it is dancing. Or closer to merry reveling as she's whistling in time with the music. The fun magic booze plus recent reclamations of mul'neissas' fate, as well as all her friends around makes for a cut loose Aryia. A rare sight.
She's giddily swaying about. "Hey. It's okay. Let's have fun," she motions to Violet. Past Violet and to V. <Handspeech/Tongues>
The ashen arvec stares at the crowd, the dancing, the preening dragon. She remains still, slowly eating from the fruit tray. She rests her hand on the table, and this is the cue for her menagerie to emerge. A white lizard, a large house centipede, a mouse, and her owl. Dunny pops up out from behind the gorget of her breastplate, while the others move through her sleeves. Her collection of friends fan out, each sitting at a plate and starting to nibble or whatever it is they do to eat.
Cor'lana grins at Telamon. "Maybe we ought not to tempt fate any more for the night," she says, and she goes to pull him off the dance floor. "I don't want this memory tainted by me spearing your foot." The couple make their way off the dance floor and to the safety of their table.
By this point, the wedding cake is more or less self-serve, as Addy's apparently found Algar somewhere on the dance floor (or has simply abandoned her post). Pothy goes to fly to get himself more cake...
And the dark-haired elven gentleman with violet eyes walks up. "Let me help you with that, Apotheosis," he says in a dark and merry tone.
"Bring me another plate, too, please, Grandfather," Cor'lana calls to him. The man--who looks too young to be 'Grandfather', but could be an elf thing--makes two plates of cake and brings them to his descendant and her familiar.
"I have been once, though... I should frequent it more." Patch muses of the shop, a smile lingering still after the dance ends, a curtsy of sorts given in return to the Dwarves manners. "Well, there is a pair of boots I need to be delivering, so perhaps a visit will be sooner than thought." she chimes, motioning towards one of the tables. "Let me get something, I'm parched." taking a small break from footwork, and dance floors for reprieve of refreshment.
The directive is spoken to Violet, but not meant for her, not entirely.
She smiles to her partner and ventures a bit more improvisation to the routine, though she is still largely keeping to a reasonable aproximation of what's expected. It's an experience, though still somewhat working within her self imposed constraints.
"How do you feel?" she asks softly.
"I'll get us some cake." Ashlee says, looking at her familiar and friends. It's a little like the fox, chicken and bag of corn conundrum. Minnie will stop Carbuncle biting Chippen while he'll stop Dunny going after Minnie. In actuality, they are well behaved, but the Mourner worries and dotes. She taps each on lightly on the head. "Be good."
The ashen arvec drifts silently over to the wedding cake, like death come to a dinner party. She takes up a knife, cuts herself a slice, then stares at her reflection in the blade. Setting it down, she returns to her pets. The cake is set down for them. She took a bite first herself. The icing an odd counterpart to her grey skin and skull markings.
Seyardu sighs quietly, and taps he foot slowly to the beat of music, a bit off time however. The cleric was content to watch the others in their merriment, and step in if need be, and otherwise enjoy the bit of celebration for the Ravenstongue and Telamon. She eventually stops to serve herself a few drinks, as it was proving unnecessary more by the moment.
Aryia is gearing up for the next song, but her face is flushed with drink and her eyes are sparkling from the same. Everything looks like glimmering stars! "I feel fucking great!" she gestures back with wide, sloppy motions. "But probably need some water! Ortherwise Seyardu will get onto me. Let's gooooooooo!"
A pointed finger drags out the word as she makes her way over, ready to get a refresher with the others in the party. And for the next round of drinks. Aryia's having a good time. She'll probably end up on a chair of bench somewhere. Maybe a tiny dragon will be in her lap. Yeah. Maybe. Unless.
"Seyardu get your silver ass up we're dancing!" It's going to be a hell of a night. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Stjepan returns from raiding the kitchen, with a super-secret plate of raven-snacks for Pothy, as well as some extra food of his own. The large box is gone, too.
Dirk ambles over to the table, nodding his head. "Aye, a mug o' mead wouldn't go amiss," he says. "They -are- offerin' mead, I hope. They knew I was comin', after all! Cannae have a proper weddin' wi'out mead! It's in the rules, ye can look it up!" He rumbles with laughter as he procures himself a beverage (whether or not it's actually mead), before plumping his hefty rump down at the table.
And so the night winds on. There's feasting, there's drinking, there's laughter. Pothy never seems to get his full share of food, even with Stjepan's contribution to his feathered tummy... then again, such a thing seems impossible, anyway. But the din of joy goes on and on.
Sometime towards the end of the night, Cor'lana throws her bouquet...
And of course, her cousin Addy catches it. "Finally!" she squeals, hopping for joy. "Finally, I get to be a bride!"
Up in the rafters, there are two garden pixies sobbing for joy. "Lord and Lady Lúpecyll! At long last! Such a beautiful couple!" Mirabilis and Lily-of-the-Valley wail, holding each other. A tiny bottle of pixie-wine has been emptied, it seems--a vintage better left for them and not for the mortals below.
And eventually, the bride and groom excuse themselves. Cor'lana and Telamon thank everyone for attending and leave, walking arm-in-arm back to their rented cottage--presumably to collapse into a very tired but happy heap.
The last one out in the wee hours of the night is the violet-eyed gentleman in dark robes who officiated the ceremony--the man that Cor'lana called "Grandfather"--who happily hums to himself under the light of the moon and the stars. "May this new family name grow on stronger roots than the old," he decrees. "May they know only happiness and joy."
His form is swallowed up in the shapeshifting of dark wings that flap into the sky. The Feathered One's legacy will endure.