faderift | [Open] I Look At You

Entry tags:

[Open] I Look At You

WHO: Aleron Darton and Bethany Hawke, Malcolm Reed, Nathaniel Howe, The Grey Warden 2LiveCrew (even you Teren), The Seeker Trio, and YOU.
WHAT: A Noble Wedding Between Two Great Houses.
WHEN: Backdated to the first of Bloomingtide
WHERE: Endridge, outside of Kaiten in the Free Marches.
NOTES: Warnings for Exceeding Sappiness and Happiness. What is that? Why is this in this game? That's just weird.EDIT: I've put in headers if you want to tag under those, but please feel free to put in your own top levels!

It's a far distance to Endridge from most anywhere, situated five miles outside Kaiten. But the destination is well worth the journey. The roads are even and in good repair as they stretch out through gently rolling hills of green. Picturesque. Tranquil. This is precisely what Bethany had wanted for her wedding: somewhere outdoors under the Maker's sky.

The pastoral setting truly is breathtaking for anyone moved by nature. Lush pastures stretch out almost to the horizon, dotted with fleecy ewes and their bouncing new lambs. Gentle breezes dance through the trees, the rustling sending gusts of fruit blossom petals scattering to the winds. Within those branches, twittering birds in joyous song cover the backdrop of baaaaaahs arising from the sheep. Behind the birdsong, the burbling of the creek sings out as it trips along its way to the lake. The warming new summer air coaxes perfumes out of the flowers, filling the air with their mingled scent. Behind the bounteous gifts of nature looms a stone edifice, seat of the Darton family, an imposing but not ungainly castle. The house is the work of the first baron, built to be a stronghold against further Nevarran incursions and a sign to legitimize the new title.

Never let it be said that Ravonild does not know how to throw a party. She's graciously offered the house and the grounds for the wedding, but has had her hand in all the preparations. Every inch of the ballroom has been polished and shined. The great hall transformed into a banqueting hall large enough to accommodate the guests, which includes every far-flung Darton relative crawled out of the woodwork. Where she has not worked her magic as a hostess is in the location of the ceremony proper. It is arranged within the formal gardens, which were a gift from Aleron's father to his new bride on her arrival from Orlais. Holding the wedding there, instead of in the wilder walled garden with its riot of variety and colors was a conciliatory gesture to appease Mama for not having the wedding in Orlais. Regardless of the behind-the-scenes bickering beforehand, everything is now the very picture of hospitality and celebration. The music is unending, the wine is free-flowing, and the dancing will last until dawn.

The simplest portion of the wedding is the ceremony itself. The Darton and Hawke coat of arms have been placed on display within the gardens, but that is the extend of excess and showmanship. Nathaniel Howe gives the bride away, Aleron's sisters are the bridal attendants, Malcolm Reed standing guard as a groomsman. In a break from tradition, youngest sister Layla carries a bouquet in one hand and her newborn baby in the other arm. (The tiny one was fussy, you see.) Oh, and yes, the bride's maiden of honor is an elf - but considering it is Merrill of the Champion's Tale? It is given a pass for the excitement of seeing one of Varric Tethras's heroes in the flesh, next to the bride.

Beyond that, it is a traditional ceremony performed by the Revered Mother who blessed all the Darton children as babes. Portions of the Chant are sung. Vows and rings are exchanged. Though behind the flowers Aleron and Bethany are holding hands and making eyes at each other. In fact, it seems miraculous that they're able to respond as required since they appear already lost in each other and not at all attentive to the ritual they are engaged in.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

He will feel a tap on his shoulder, and there is the bride herself, brown eyes bright with humor and joy, as she holds out one gloved hand to him. Her smile has a touch of mischeviousness, but mostly, it is affection. She loves the world tonight - well almost all of it. Malcolm is most definitely in the 'love' category.

"The bride would like a spin around the room with the best man, if he is available?" She states with a mock primness, dimples flashing. "Would you do me the honor, serah?"

For the most part, Aleron is glued to Bethany's side all day. When he is not, his eyes still follow her around the room. It is nothing at all to do with possessiveness or even being overprotected. Simply the man has eyes for no other and already misses his bride when she is not present. Good thing they are now married because he's just as moony as a lovestruck squire. Yes yes, it's a beneficial match for the family, combining the famous Hawkes to the Darton clan, but Aleron is not that practical. He loves Bethany to the end of the world and back and her happiness is his highest priority.

Even at his own wedding, however, Aleron is a man of moderation. The whole day he indulges in only one drink. He nurses it over the course of several hours, and turns away offers to replenish his glass. So much so that the servants are growing concerned that the mistress will hear and verbally lash them for being lax in their responsibilities. (Servants who some might note are without exception elves, and very very handsome elves at that. Ravonild has a thing for pretty surroundings.)

Socializing is expected of him, so the groom manages the best he can. He even sometimes manages to drum up something of a smile. At least until his gaze falls to his wife again, at which time, the hint of a smile grows closer to an almost there one. He is so very terrible at expressing himself, especially in public. When one is more likely to catch him out is in the presences of his younger sisters, Imogen and Layla who are attractive enough women but nearly plain set against the eldest Ravonild.

It's not even the sisters that induce a reaction from him, but their little ones. Nieces and nephews, ages sixteen to two weeks, are primped and pressed in their finest... and running amok through the reception laughing, giggling, sneaking cakes, playing tag, and squabbling over who gets Uncle's attention next. Clearly, Aleron dotes on the little ones and at present, is holding the newest addition in his arms, admiring precious Madeline's tiny fingers. Who knew? The Seeker has a soft spot for children.

Edited (typo) 2017-05-12 14:30 (UTC)

Like Church, Christine is wearing a gown she hasn't worn in over a year, and it's giving her flashbacks to that soiree where she had to school Church on not causing incidents. But everything turned out fine then -- very fine considering how they spent the end of the evening -- and it's clear that since then, Church has learned to mind his words better. Not spectacularly well, but better.

She approaches him at the table and smiles fondly at the picture he makes. The food isn't spilling down his jacket, so he's not going overboard in her eyes. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she enjoys cooking, and so she enjoys seeing him eat.

"Whenever I lose sight of you in a crowd," she begins, reaching for a chocolate truffle on a silver tray, "I know I can always find you at the food."

He smiles as he dodges a pair of the kids as they play tag, stepping around another that's ready to flee if the pursuer turns, before managing to reach Aleron. Anders has a glass of water in hand, which he raises as if in toast. For a few moments he's quiet, watching the room, actually waiting to make sure no ears are so close that they can overhear what he says.

"Do they know what she is?" It's barely voiced. Nobility celebrating marriage to a mage seems... unlikely. Especially in this fashion.

The baby gurgles in Aleron's arms and Anders holds out a finger, letting her grab it but not quite allowing her to put it in her mouth.

Anders takes her hand and squeezes it as he glances back in Nate's direction. They're both mages and both Wardens; this was once an impossibility for either of them. They're also the safest for that combination. Other mages might be taken back in while being Wardens protects them. They have to keep working. They can't rest here.

...But this is a nice day for a break.

"May it become an option for all," he says quietly. If the people here don't know she's a mage, he's not about to voice it. For once he's not even wearing his staff. The usual need to be visibly a mage comes second to this event.

"I considered bringing a cat as a gift but I realized I wasn't sure you'd like that. Despite cats making a family whole." He's teasing. Partly.

The gesture is familiar more than words could say. Aleron has spent the better part of two hours lifting, hugging, spinning, and otherwise utterly doting on his nieces, nephews and younger cousins. Gwenaëlle is tiny and he recognizes the request being made.

In one motion, he hugs her tighly, then lifts her well into the air and gives her a spin as he had done when she was a little girl. When he replaces her to the ground, a tender brotherly kiss is placed on her forehead. "Maker bless you, little cousin. I'm happy." A pause as he doesn't wish to revisit the painful parts of his life today, but they are just as much a part of him as his arms or legs. "I have not been so in years, but today I am."

Evidence that Aleron's speaking the truth? One of his exceptionally rare, genuine smiles comes with the assertion. "And I'm pleased you could come." Would come. The Vauquelins were invited as was proper. Most could not accept, some would not. There are a few of his in-laws present tonight, but he'd not seen the majority in years, either by chance or design.

Romain is in that timeless yet slightly awkward position: attending a wedding where he knows neither the bride nor the groom. (Except, of course, by reputation.) He is technically Gwenaëlle's guest, though he probably could have pulled a few Orlesian strings to attend without her if he had really wished. Still, most everyone here he knows only at a remove, if that.

He will not shadow his granddaughter all night, however, as she has people to speak to and she is (as she continues to remind him) no longer a child. Instead, he circulates, a piece of Orlais incarnate in his dress (if on the sober side by the nation's usual standards). He is not looking to interrupt anyone, but if someone else is at loose end, well -- one can make interesting acquaintances at a wedding.

"What can I say," after swallowing a bite of food, "always a good place to start. It's like wallflowering without actually wallflowering, and I don't say something stupid in front of rich people I don't know. Seems like it's working." He's usually pretty social enough, but...impressions. They're a thing with consequences here.

"Does he not smile much?" he asks then after Aleron. "He looks like his face isn't sure how a smile works."

Yeah, Church. It's things like that that make it hard to let you talk to rich people whose impressions will have consequences. Exactly that.

As he speak, Christine nibbles past the chocolate shell and into the delicious truffle, taking her time with it. It's a stark contrast to how Church gobbles down food, but she wants to savor it.

At least he's not saying it to Aleron, or any of these rich people within earshot. Her head lifts to look for Aleron, still surrounded by guests, but with Bethany at his side, it looks like he can endure anything.

"It used to be quite rare, yes," she answers, turning back towards the conversation. "Plus he is very reserved by nature. Not one for being the center of attention. But I can tell after working alongside him for so long that he is incredibly happy."

She wasn't going to forget that comparatively,she and Anders were the fortunate ones. It had not been that way 12 years ago, but times had changed. So had they.

A laugh bubbled over, and her brown eyes brightened. "My first child, and before the wedding night? For shame, dear friend!"

Of course, Aleron's ears and neck turn bright at that implied innuendo. He's been married before, there aren't any mysteries left in that regard, but he's still terribly reserved. He clears his throat quietly and attempts to deflect his personal embarrassment with a question, "Would you like a cat, beloved?"

He's had no need for any pet beyond his personal mount since he was sent away from home, but there was a fondness for the mouser kept by Cook when he was a boy. The point is, if Bethany wants it, she may have it. Aleron will bend over backwards to provide whatever will assure her happiness.

He waggles his eyebrows. The blush is something he'd not expected to ever see on a Seeker, especially a previously married one. That he's blushing and not Bethany is even more amusing, but then again, Bethany's spent plenty of time with Isabela.

"I know where there are a few without homes, you could even pick if you wanted a boy or a girl. Most families don't get that lucky. And there's an added bonus in having a healer find one for you." As in, he'd take care of any issues the cat has before it gets to Bethany.

Gwenaëlle laughs, startled - it hadn't been her intention, it's been years since anyone would swing her in the air like that, but she's hardly going to complain. (Maybe she's missed it, a bit, not having to be quite so concerned with the maintenance of one's dignity.)

But on that other note -

"My lord sends his regrets," dutifully, refraining from any editorial remarks on the subject of her father's many regrets and the nature thereof - in this, even she isn't skeptical of his sincerity or his motives. Emeric's fondness for Aleron is known, and it's likely that could he have attended, he would have; it certainly can't thrill him that Gwenaëlle instead attended on the arm of her grandfather, a father-in-law that he has never cared for and has strongly attempted to discourage association with since the late Comtesse Vauquelin's death.

The antipathy between the Duke de Coucy and his son-in-law is just as common knowledge, but Gwenaëlle has always been her grandfather's favourite. Aleron seems unlikely to be one to begrudge that, when she does her level best to be his favourite, too.

"Gifts, too, I'm sure, but those will likely come later. Have you any plans, or will it be straight back to work?"

Malcolm is a gentleman raised with manners. He's less certain about anyone in the Hawke family, honestly, given the stories, but of course he won't treat the bride any differently than he would any other bride. He bows over her hand and presses his lips to the back of it.

"My dear Lady Darton, it would be my honour."

Someone somewhere is thanking a higher power that this is a world wherein Malcolm can dance. It might be formal, and he's hardly up to date with the latest crazes--too busy saving the world, you see--but he's most certainly acceptable when spinning someone around the dancefloor.

"And I will spend the rest of our lives defending your happiness, my darling." Ah Aleron, so good at taking a sweet and light moment and making it weighty. But he absolutely means every word. And while he has custody of Bethany's lovely hands, he lifts both and kisses the tops (yes even though there are gloves in the way) of both. Then a thought occurs and he corrects himself, "My wife."

My wife. He could repeat those two blessed words over and over. For not the first time, he marvels how he's so lucky to have garnered the affections of such an amazing woman and she consented to marry him.

Aleron scoots closer to Bethany on the bench. Better to be as close as humanly possible for the short stolen moments they are taking for themselves. They will eventually have to go back and be social, and he'd endure that and more for her sake. Though perhaps for once it is not as much a burden as it might have been. Today is about them. What a novelty that is.

"Are you happy, Bethany?"

"I'm certain if you'd like one, Ravonild would gift it, darling." There's a rueful sort of smile from Aleron though at the most likely fate of the hypothetical lamb. "Though I'm not at all certain where we would keep it." It's not like there's a great deal of open space for nurturing young livestock within Kirkwall.

Though once they settle in Orlais, there is no reason Bethany couldn't have her own flock if she wants it. Aleron will bend over backwards to give her what she wants. Even if what she wants to do right now is talk business.

"To answer that question, 'nowhere near the roost'. The griffons will think we are offering them a new form of lunch." Inessa likes to think her griffon reasonably trained, but she's not naive enough to think Potato or any other wouldn't take a lamb as a meal at first opportunity. Best not make it easy for them, unless that's the intent.

"And yes, we've gotten the supplies set. My thanks to you both for that, it has aided significantly and will all the more when winter arrives." When will wool not be direly needed? Never, that's when. "I am available to see them whenever you wish, though I wouldn't presume that to be any time soon." The line behind her is still significant, after all, and she'll have to move on soon so that others have a chance.

"We've imposed on my sister's hospitality a full month already with the wedding preparations. I don't wish to intrude further." Which is polite Aleron speak for if he spends another day with his sister, he might snap. They've been making inroads addressing their many and myriad personality conflicts, but they are far from resolved. And no matter how beautiful the land is, this hasn't been his home in far too long.

Though since he's been back, he's come to realize how much he's missed it, the children, the cousins, all the extended family. Yes, even his irrepressible twin.

For a split second, there's a mischievous glint in his eyes and he adds casually, "Though she does adore playing the hostess, so you should take your leisure here as long as pleases you."

The look she gives him is tender, and knowing. It might just be more literal than either one of them realizes it. He is a Seeker, she is a Warden and a Mage ... they have taken a huge step forward for both of their proverbial sides today. It just won't always be easy. She has faith in them, though. She always would. She gently corrects him, "Your darling wife."

She squeezed his hands again, and this time she is the one who sneaks a kiss to his cheek, warm and lingering. Then she rests her forehead against his, a slow dimpled smile appearing on her lips.

"I am overjoyed, Aleron. And you?"

There's plenty left to savor, it's a party. And the prettyboy elves keep restocking. "Wow, someone's got a fetish." Wait, did he mumble that out loud? Ignore that completely!

Nope he's not looking at any prettyboy elves. He's looking at Aleron. Definitely. "That's the thing that matters. This place is full of arranged marriages for families and wealth and peace, so it's...good, to see one for love happen. You ever want that, marriage?"

"Hmm?" she asks, having not quite caught that first part. But it's not really worth mentioning because then he goes and asks a big question and her mouth drops open in surprise. It's not something she ever thought he would ask her, and she takes a minute to try and think up an answer that's honest, but doesn't imply anything, because she isn't going to be the pressuring type.

"Yes, I do. It was not something I ever believed could happen. Mages were barred from marrying. They were not allowed to hold titles or land, and were forbidden from reproducing." She sighs and her eyes trail over to Bethany once more. "The Divine's death has changed things, but I cannot say if the rules will be enforced again once a new Divine is chosen." Life among the Avvar looks more and more promising by the day.

The formality of the event is all a bit much for Fenris. He's not exactly the most comfortable in a grand setting like this... he never has been and likely never will be. Still, he'll put up with what he has to. He's here for Bethany's sake, after all. At least during the actual ceremony, he got to hang back and avoid any of the questions that had been coming his way the whole time, from various other guests he doesn't know. It's hard for them not to recognize him as one of the others from Varric's stories, though.

He waits until most of the others have gone through before he approaches the couple.

"My congratulations to both of you."

Wine is a fantastic idea to Fenris, who's sure to take a close look at what's being offered, and to sample a glass of most everything. He's not really much for mingling, but it's kind of... hard to miss him, so he inevitably ends up often with someone or other approaching him with random questions.

It doesn't take him long to have enough of that already, and to take his current wine glass elsewhere, wandering toward the gardens where it's much less crowded. There... that's much better.

Bethany laughed at that, before she asked, "Is Butterball doing all right? Are the other riders treating him well?" She worries about her feathery baby. She's been gone this entire month and it's entirely possible he ran off with another ham.

Relief touched her face - the Inquisition needed those supplies and she needed the Inquisition to be liked - so her friends were comfortable, Kirkwall was welcoming, and she had a home to go back to with her new husband. "We can arrange a tour whenever you like, Inessa. If you're here tomorrow, I shall take you around myself."

She squeezed the young woman's hand again, smiling, "I'm so grateful you're here."

"We'll probably stop off someplace and not try for a hard journey to Kirkwall -- but we also need to get back to work." Was Bethany's warm reply, so Aleron has a ready-made excuse for them to be leaving as soon as possible. She knows how he feels about his home, mixed blessings indeed.

A side-ways glance, before her own lips twitch upwards, "She does like the company." Is all she will say, but he is getting Nudged later.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 5

[Open] I Look At You

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject