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

[elegiaque]

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.

Comments

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[coquettish_trees]

"Knight-Enchanter Shivana!" is the delighted exclamation in reply, accompanied by the graceful sweep of red velvet in the shallow but altogether lovely curtsy she affords to the Inquisition's officers. It is precisely loud enough that any who know the name might glance at the correct time to see her recover and press his other hand between her own in warm greeting accompanied by a dazzling smile.

Let them see the De La Fontaines still stand with the Southern Chantry, and at least have those whispers be done. Simultaneously and neatly cut along with any implications that her sympathy for the mages was due only to her lover. That he is an elf cannot be helped, but egalitarianism is surging as all prove themselves worthy combatants and leaders, especially in the wake of Scoutmaster Ashara's continued success.

"How fortuitous! I had been wondering who the dress uniform of our organization had been initially patterned for, and here you are cutting such a fine figure that I find my musings immediately requited."

[chainlightning]

In turn, Merrill bows in formal Dalish style - but she smiles up at Myr from it, the silvery dust along her vallaslin winking in the light. It makes it shine, brightening her face even further. Merrill is already quite fond of it.

"Added along the lines of the vallaslin, yes," she laughs, one hand reaching up to gesture at her face. It's tempting to trace along the lines herself, but the silver will come off on the tips of her fingers.

(Let someone else do it. Start a rumor. It seems the Orlesian way.)

"Lady De La Fontaine is right, of course," she adds, with a nod toward his uniform. "Red is a good color on you."

[faithlikeaseed]

"It's brilliant," Myr replies to Merrill, not above the pun. "I daresay you might start something--but, ah! Where are my manners--"

Laughingly--at himself--Myr returns both bow and curtsy with a bow of his own, hand pressed to heart in fine Hasmali style. Let anyone who's looking on not have that to hold against the Inquisition's unorthodox choice for Chantry Relations--

Since they will be looking; he's little enough experience in this arena but he knows that much, at least. But let any worry that sparks bide for another time.

"There--you've come out to take no prisoners," or all of 'em, "with the charm, I see." He grins at them both, this time altogether less addled. A knight-enchanter might get caught flat-footed, now and again, but he doesn't stay so for long. "And might fairly count my wits as one of your casualties. How are you both?"