open | 'til death do us part

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Loki, Lexie, and everyone whose situational cost-benefit analyses came up benefit somehow (or got ignored)
WHAT: the dubiously legitimate wedding of Lord Loki of House Asgard and Lady Alexandrie de la Fontaine and some totally unpredictable fallout
WHEN: Pre Elf Times
WHERE: Hightown
NOTES: Questions? Find us! (Loki: hikuswing, Lexie: shaestorms)

Post-fight part of the log in a couple of days! ♥

Comments

ota

[heirring]

Meanwhile, in the decidedly not doing anything useful camp, at the first sign of trouble Wysteria has done the sensible thing and ducked out of her chair and under the tablecloth of one of the nearest tables waiting to be burdened with refreshments the moment the ceremony is complete.

That she elbows a fellow reasonable person who has beaten under the table somewhere delicate on the way under in purely accident and in the shadow beneath the table, as the room bursts unseen into chaos, she actually takes a moment to apologize:

"Good gods - is your face all right?"

[untiltheyarent]

With a hand clasped over her eye, Fifi gives a wincing nod. By her dress, she's clearly a servant, but having never claimed to be good at anything resembling combat, she finds wisdom in simply disappearing when the going gets rough.

"Are you injured," she asks, opening her other eye to look Wysteria over with the sort of calm exasperation that comes with the territory of working for the wedding party.

[heirring]

"Me? No, no--" There's a crash somewhere in the room about them. Wysteria draws her feet in a little nearer to avoid the possibility of anyone beyond the edge of the tablecloth tripping over some mislaid toe. "No, I'm perfectly fit."

A momentary pause, followed by a flash of panic as she checks herself over in the not-quite-dark under the table. "Do I seem injured?"

[untiltheyarent]

"Good," Fifi sighs, wincing at the same sound but not bothering to curl up-- she sort of half-reclines onto her elbow, leaning her head down to peer out from underneath the tablecloth. Still going.

"You seem frightened," she adds, glancing over Wysteria again, still pressing one hand to her own eye, "but no worse for wear." A small, tired, reassuring smile follows.

[heirring]

Which is-- well, not reassuring, but she's at least not going to bleed through this dress and that much is a blessing. Returning a gore flecked gown to Alexandrie's closet in the days following her nuptials seems in poor taste.

But frightened?

"No, no. I'm afraid you--" Oh, she ought to be whispering this. Continuing in a hiss, she insists, "You have this the wrong way around entirely. I'm being reasonably cautious. And I daresay that I am of better use out of the way than in it. Now, are you certain your face is quite all right? That blows felt very solid to my elbow."

Crash, bang, thump. The table rattles ominously.

[untiltheyarent]

A wry smile is quickly schooled into a pleasant expression, which becomes exceedingly less so when she lowers her hand to display a blossoming black eye.
"I've had worse," she says, giving a little flinch as the table shudders, "...I think. How does it look?"

[heirring]

Oops. If Wysteria blanches (she does), then she rallies to cover for it with extreme grace (no she doesn't.)

"Oh, you can hardly tell at all that I struck you at all. It's really perfectly all right after all."

[untiltheyarent]

The look Fifi gives her is skeptical at best, but she doesn't push the matter; it's not like Wysteria did it on purpose, after all.
"Good," she says blandly, not even pretending to believe her, and leans down to peer out from under the tablecloth again.

"At some point we might want to run," she observes, "...but not at the moment."

[heirring]

Wysteria, sensible young lady that she is, twists after her. She doesn't quite get to the point of leaning down to peer under the edge of the tablecloth, but it's an awfully near thing if the tip of her head and the general incline of her upper body are any indication. No, stop that. You don't need to poke your head out to get a good look at the chaos.

"Is there a particular point at which you think it might be a better idea to make a run for it?"