elegiaque: (045)
šœššš©š­ššš¢š§ š¬š­š«ššš§š šž. ([personal profile] elegiaque) wrote in [community profile] faderift2018-12-27 11:27 pm

persephone sits in a courtroom dress as green as summer trees her lipstick red as blood

WHO: Gwenaƫlle Baudin, Thranduil, assorted guests.
WHAT: It's a nice day for a white wedding.
WHEN: Haring 30th / Wintermarch 1st
WHERE: The de Coucy residence, Hightown.
NOTES: The OOC post. Your character wasn't in the chapel unless you play Romain, Coupe or Legolas. Post co-authored with [personal profile] rowancrowned. Questions section of the OOC post still open! This is a mingle log; top level, tag amongst yourselves, hit us up if you have particular needs or desires.




Despite the events of the previous month, the winter's afternoon wedding of GwenaĆ«lle Baudin and Provost Thranduil proceeds as planned—or at least, close enough that any last minute discrepancies are invisible to the eye of oblivious guests (and indeed the bride, having taken approximately zero interest in the planning). In the ongoing absence of a suitable Chantry, the ceremony itself takes place in the modest chapel within the home to a select few witnesses hand-selected—chosen mainly to avoid any untoward rumours that it might not have been done properly, including the acting Viscount, the Gallows Forces commander, and a handful of others whose stature within Kirkwall lends them the sort of credibility this wedding is in dire need of being lent.

With the ballroom ripped out and redesigned for another purpose, the estate doesn’t possess the space to host the number of guests invited to the post-ceremony fete, instead making use of the courtyard in its center. Guests are shepherded there, and are not entirely left out of the wedding itself when they are joined by the happy couple to publicly sign the legal documents some who've not previously attended weddings between people with money may never have seen before. To ward off the midwinter cold—to varying degrees of success, based on one’s proximity to them—braziers have been set up at intervals throughout the garden everywhere but the space cleared for those moved to dance, and servants in de Coucy colors bring round trays of small, hot food and enough drinks to stave off the worst of the chill.

The decorations betray the groom’s tastes over the bride's. Holly and juniper and other such evergreens make up the majority of the arrangements, bright red berries a better ornament than the inexcusable expense of hothouse flowers. There is the underlying reminder that both halves of the couple are Inquisition members, in the smart dress uniforms that half the guests wear as they mingle with the better part of Kirkwall society.

This is a pageant, the diplomatic arm of the Inquisition flexing the agreement made with the Rifters and also the normalcy it seeks to restore. But it is a pretty pageant, and an easy excuse to wear something stunning and dance and eat food purchased with Orlesian coin—and, perhaps, to enquire about making a donation to the Inquisition in support.
















dirth: (maybe there's a god above)

[personal profile] dirth 2018-12-29 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
He would escape if it was possible for him to, there is no denying that. Having agreed to show his face, Solas would have been content to making sure that he was seen and not heard in any particularly way. Clearly, he was mistaken in thinking that was possible when Thranduil is as determined as he is.

Given the formality of the moment and the fact that he has been trying, quite hard, to act as though there was no discord between them in public, Solas allows it to happen. He allows the hand on his waist, allows his own to be held, allows himself to be lead. He is shorter; he would likely allow Galadriel the same prerogative had she asked.

There is warmth when his finger touches the anchor shard. It's soothing as much as it is unsettling.

"One," he comments, voice low. "That will do."