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

thanks for the notif, dw

[coquettish_trees]

"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?"

it's so kind like that

[chainlightning]

"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."

what a cockblock

[indissection]

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."