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

WHO: Gwenaëlle 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

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 Gwenaëlle 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sidony has spent the last half an hour sitting quite calmly, sipping on some wine (one glass for an evening was more than enough; the illusion of drinking more by always keeping one in hand was a game - her mother had taught her that). Her dress is one of the few she had thought to bring herself from Nevarra, packed away and left hanging in the shameful excuse for a wardrobe that she had been given in the Gallows, but at least it is wearable.

She does not know what to do with herself when she spots Alexandrie and Merrill walking in.

The wine in her hand slips a little and she has to force herself to grasp it, to tilt her head down to make sure she hadn't made a fool of herself by staining her dress, acting as if she was a drunkard when she has had barely enough to make her blink. Alexandrie is stunning in red and Merrill practically glows, leaving Sidony unsure where to leave her eyes - on the woman she had left quite sourly or the elf who makes her want to trace -

Pushing herself up, she shakes her head, pushing hair from her face. If there is going to be a time to attempt repairs between herself and Alexandrie - who she had counted as something of a friend, despite their rather shaky nature with one another - then in the company of nobility and wine is as good a time as any. Dress curling around her legs, she approaches with a smile, offering a one-handed curtsey.

"You both look wonderful."

In the company of nobility and wine is perhaps the best possible time. It is useful that the Inquisition's noble contingent be seen as a united bulwark, and so what little tiff she had had—is still, perhaps, having—with Sidony is summarily discarded for the greater appearance of such unity. To that end, the curtsey that ought to be given visiting foreign nobility is returned, and Alexandrie goes so far as to step in to lightly brush a kiss across the Nevarran woman's cheek in greeting.

In such a way that does not muss either of their lips or faces, of course.

"Ah! Lady Venaras! How pleased I am to see you well recovered from your ordeals at Ghislain, and making such a fine show of yourself besides." The last is delivered with an approving smile and look that considers the entirety of both her form and dress. She looks at Merrill and tilts her head curiously, "Have the two of you made acquaintance yet? If not, I shall be most delighted to have been the vehicle of such."

The customs and traditions of the Inquisition are many, as varied as the fish in the sea or the birds in the sky. Merrill is learning, of course; she had been to Orlais, has watched and observed like a curious magpie, picking up bits and pieces that suit her. But she is still Dalish, still a 'wild elf'. She has her own traditions, and the rest of Thedas doesn't have to like it, but they will learn to deal with it.

To that end, Merrill does not curtsy. Merrill bows, one hand swept in front of her and the other behind her back. The bow is deep, and formal, and Merrill straightens to stand as tall and proud as a tree.

"Lady De La Fontaine has an excellent eye," she smiles, one hand gesturing between their dresses. "We've spoken briefly over the crystals, but not met in person."

It does not seem as though Alexandrie intends to give any heed to their little tiff and so Sidony is content to allow it to slip to one side. It's far easier to focus on the two charming woman in front of her, the smile on her face genuine but hiding a rush of panic and uncertainty as she tries to manage herself. They are exceptionally beautiful and it's very difficult to rationalise her feels about that - want or envy, which of the two should she allow herself to believe in?

"We have. It is a pleasure to meet you in person, my lady." Sidony offers a curtsey, politeness first, before she looks between them. Lexie has picked well, absolutely so, and the two of them look remarkably good together. That is something she is jealous of, if nothing else; she wishes that she looked even a little as charming in a pair, or that she had a pair herself.

"You might well outshine the bride tonight."

"Perish the thought," Alexandrie replies, her eyebrows lofting as she makes light play of looking across the space to see if Gwenaëlle had heard, "but I think we may safely take the sentiment to heart, no?" The last is delivered to Merrill with a sort of genuine pleasure. Which it had been and continues to be. Alexandrie had been surprised and delighted to find that Merrill's exuberance extended to both fashion and a little light politicking of both the married couple supportive and genteel nose-thumbing variety; personal favourites of her own.

For being a 'wild elf' and fair made of sunshine, the woman had sharply astute teeth and a readiness to ply them.

Then to Sidony again, with a nod at the glass in her hand, "It seems you have done your reconnaissance of the refreshments already. If it should please my companion, I might venture to beg you escort the both of us to where we might do the same?"

"I think so," Merrill readily agrees, blushing beneath the sparkle of her vallaslin. It only adds more red to match Alexandrie, even up to her pointed ears. Compliments still easily fluster her, but at least she's not stuttering or babbling this time. Instead, she draws her strength from Alexandrie; her strength, her poise, her speech.

She resists the urge to rub the back of her neck in embarrassment, but she does twine her fingers together.

"I wouldn't mind looking at the refreshments," she adds after a moment, smile widening a bit. "Especially not with the two of you."

Sidony doesn't think the bride cares much, particularly - it's not for her to judge, she does not know Gwenaëlle well enough to make any kind of assumption, but the impression is there all the same. She can't help but think she would be somewhat like a mirror image when it came to her own wedding; the event would be a delight, but the person she was marrying? Her eyes dance to Lexie, to Merrill, and she breathes out, forcing herself to keep calm, to stay relaxed.

They're both so very handsome. She's not entirely sure what to do with herself, not when she can feel herself getting flushed and warm.

"I would be more than happy to do so." Sidony smiles, offering her arms to the two of them. Let her walk with two beautiful ladies on her arms - she doesn't think that she could be happier. "I can even point you to a suitable vintage."

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

both/either/gay panic

oh it's gonna be both

WINKS AGGRESSIVELY also sorry for the delay friends ;;

npnp

thanks for the notif, dw

it's so kind like that

what a cockblock