faderift | ( OPEN ) | something borrowed, something blue

WHO: Byerly, Sidony and guests (everyone is invited)
WHAT: The best sham of a wedding Thedas has ever seen
WHEN: Now
WHERE: the Toad and Flagon
NOTES: The Best Wedding Ever ft. a kidnapping

You are hereby invited to the wedding of Byerly Rutyer and Sidony Celogera Allegra Venaras.
The venue is not quiet nor is it beautiful; the gambling hall is loud and intense, with all kinds of smells and dirtiness to carry along with the strangeness of their wedding. There’s some attempt at draping, some attempt at making it look as though some kind of party is taking place here, but it certainly doesn’t look like there’s going to be a wedding at all. It’s hastily done, hastily put together, but at least it’s something, which is better than nothing.

There’s about an hour until the wedding is due to start and both the bride and groom are getting ready - whatever that means to the two of them.

Food is not provided. There are no drinks bought. There's a table for gifts to one side, with a little plaque with their names on. Prostitutes and gamblers wander between the aisles and chairs, laughing and making jokes with one another, completely avoiding setting the scene of a proper wedding.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Many who wouldn't accept that are quite reasonable, to my way of thinking," he murmurs, but - this is not a time for foolish self-indulgence such as that. All that matters is whether or not this is truly her will. And if it is -

He takes her hand. Takes a step back to look into her eyes. "Sidony, I will swear these oaths to you. And I swear them on my name, as dirty and dishonored as it is. I will never curtail your freedom. You will always have whatever you desire to pursue whatever you desire. If that is medicine, or a lover who captures your heart, or anything at all, everything I possess will be in service of your happiness. I promise you this."

"Not to me. They are not reasonable at all." Byerly has become too important for her to accept anyone who might not accept him as part of her life. Her family, her friends... None of them are going to matter to her if they cannot accept the person that is most important to her. He is like her brother, truly, but at the same time...

The touch to her hand has her pausing and she breathes out, her eyes widening. If there are tears she hopes that he doesn't mention it - or, at least, makes some kind of joke about it.

"Darling," she says, voice soft and gentle. "I swear the same. I swear that I will do all that I can to give you happiness, that I will give you anything that I might be able to offer. I will be the most dutiful of wives, no matter how much of a farce this marriage might be. I will -" a breath, "- I will be the best friend I can be to you. I do love you, dearest, in all the ways that I am able."

He's already shaking his head. "I cannot think of anything that would bring me less pleasure than you being dutiful." His smile is wry as he touches his fingertip (gently) to the tip of her nose. "All I wish is for you to burn down anyone who stands in the way of your happiness. And for you to grant me the pleasure of hearing you make those catty little comments of yours. I do admire your nastiness ever so."

He drops his hand, then, and lets out a breath. Farce marriage or no, he still must come clean about this. So. Have courage. "There's - one last thing I should tell you. You should know - I have...duties...beyond those that Riftwatch gives me. I'm telling you this in confidence, just in case it...affects any decisions. I will follow my obligations to you. But - at times - if my other duties demand it, then I will have to serve."

No, this is all muddled and unclear. He lets out a breath, and finally says, blunt as he can - "I spy for Ferelden. So - just - be aware."

The fact that he is standing here in front of her, so willing to give up so much for her, makes Sidony feel as though she might be able to fly. There's a rather pained lump in her throat that she can't ignore, and she leans closer, letting herself touch him, letting herself stroke a hand against his arm and feel the sheer joy of knowing that she has found a place where someone is truly willing to cherish her as she has always wanted. Byerly is... So much more than she had ever felt as though she might deserve.

"If my nastiness pleases you then we shall do it. I shall stand at your side and show you just how catty I can be." Tilting her head, she watches, frowning for a moment. It's not as though she can shame him for secrets; she is the one dissecting bodies, she is the one who wishes to be arms deep in a dead soldier to learn more of its nature.

The revelation does make her pause, blinking, before she purses her lips and nods.

"Very well," leaning up, she kisses his cheek. "When your duties take you from me then I will gladly wait for you to come back, likely with wine in hand."

Is that all? No shock? No horror? It's a little dismaying, when you find out you're not nearly the terror you thought you were. He ought to be getting gasps in return for that secret, people clutching at their chests to find out that Byerly Rutyer isn't a useless fool after all...Ah, well. It's Sidony.

"It's more than just - taking me from you," he murmurs. A breath in - "This work is work that might demand my life someday. Notime soon, I hope, but - comely widowhood may lie in your future." He offers a small twitch of a smile. "But do not worry, my dear; I will fail to provide for you in death no less than I will have failed to provide for you in life."

There is a little shock, she can admit to that - the flicker of her eye, the way she deliberately kissed him to hide her confusion, her wonder, how her hands trace down his body to take his, squeezing his fingers. Sidony is, however, a master of hiding who she is and what she wants to do. She treats herself as a closed book, all the better for keeping her own secrets and using the secrets of others against them.

This is one secret she does not wish to abuse, however. Not after all that Byerly has done for her.

"Comely?" Her lips curl up into a gentler smile and she shakes her head, drawing him down so that she can tuck her face into his shoulder, her arms around his neck, her body close to his. Intimate, but familial - she loves him but has no desire for him. "I will wear the most darling black at your funeral, my dear, and weep openly for the loss of my most wonderful and loving husband. I shall even wait a week before appearing to char another."

She hopes, naturally, that he does not die any time soon - she's not sure her heart could take it. Instead, she sighs softly. "I am proud of you, for all that you have done and all that you will do."

"Don't be absurd, dear Sidony," he says, reaching out to press her hand. "Nothing to be proud of. I do it for a spot of money and a desire for mischief-making; that's all. It's astonishing, just how much trouble one can cause in a position like that."

And he's getting married for the money, and for the scandal. And he left home because he was hurled out for being such a ne'er-do-well. And, and, and. The key to telling lies is to believe them wholeheartedly, at least in the moment. But it always seems rather absurd to lie to Sidony. Like it's the most fragile sort of playacting.

Beginning to read between the lines of how Byerly acts is something that Sidony has started to do in most earnest; he never quite says what he means, other than in his most vulnerable of moments, and they dance a merry game of almost truths and half-lies, smiling at one another and teasing the edges of their natures. What he says is that he does it for money and mischief; what she hears is that there is something more to it.

Just like their marriage. A scandal, for sure, a pure love match to some, money to others... But they know the truth. She cannot keep her hands away from him, from holding him close, wishing she could see more of this man: she does love him, she just simply does not love him the way the world imagines.

"You are quite the troublemaker, aren't you, darling?" A small smiles as she leans up, tiptoes high, to kiss his nose. "It's part of your charm, surely."

( OPEN ) | something borrowed, something blue

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