A Seaside Ceremony
The beach would often see nothing out of the ordinary. Day in, day out water floods in and the tide pulls it back once more. Through rain, snow and hail. The beach remains. Quiet. Unheard of.
This day was different, although it wasn't. The beach didn't care, the hermit crabs didn't care. Nor did the tide. But for those gathered, it was an important day.
The union between Lazarus Lupenzi and Gwyn ad Dothwaite would begin upon this beach. Lazarus, dressed in a relatively simple dark suit, stood by a priest, waiting in anticipation of what was to come for the soon and into the far off future. It was still a wonder to the aged man how he had mustered up the courage to throw himself into such a commitment yet again at this point in his life. But somehow he remained stalwartly confident that it was the right choice, though a nervous tinge was clear enough from the anxious grin at the Bloodcast's visage as he awaited his bride-to-be's arrival.
For Gwyn, she was uncharacteristically stuffed within a white dress. Alongside a veil held up by the floral crown that she obtained from their brief trip to Kintyr. She resounded upon her entire thoughts; things she had accomplished alongside her stalwart companion and soon to be wed. Many thoughts and feelings rushed through the Breizh Woman's head, echoing throughout her thoughts, emotions like flurries of hidden joy and intense anxieties. Albeit yearning for the commitment to come.
Accompanied by her sister and cousin; Marisa Solisti and Rhiannon ad Dothwaite respectively. She would begin her journey to the wedding aisle. Not before Rhiannon with raised shoulders, higher than normal traced through to the stands pre-emptively sprinkling an assortment of petals and other nature festivities. Whilst Marisa, would be accompanying her sister, Gwyn down the aisle. Though accompanying could be a loose term as she'd need an assertive but gentle push along the aisle, for Gwyn wasn't used to this type of ceremony. The grip would tensen around the cutting of myrtle. Finally having walked the aisle now parallel to Lazarus at the stand. She would look out to those who had gathered.
Catching the eye of Lazarus looking out to the stands were his amply sized 'family' shrouded in red capes. Ranging from Ibrahim Batunoglu, who'd awoken from a comfortable nap with a firm jab to the shoulder by a particularly straight-faced Fin'ullen with a hazy grey gaze, Nym'vrae. Who had made the trip from overseas, only to be settled in amongst the chaos of sitting dead centre in the sea of Bloodcasts throughout the ceremony's duration. Alongside this pairing, Seraphina von Der Ebene, and Alexander Vauclain. Who were much too caught up within in their own sibling musings to ship much sympathy aside to the Helvath. Meanwhile, behind them, Philippe du Langelier, and Lee Ming-Qui were trying to keep the peace of a plentiful portion of schilders and younger members of their order who struggled to sit still amongst dramatics. All in all, Lazarus had fully hoped for and expected all of what he saw, a pleased grin to his visage throughout.
In the stands watching was that of; Morgan Zhau and Asterlea Flutre, then there was Rhiannon ad Dothwaite, Alduir Stormblade, Marisa Solisti and Talisin. Whispers and babbles in the languages of Picaron and others would happen. Alduir in particular in his best-sported suit; his suit of armour. Helmet included, firmly atop him. People assumed he smiled. In truth, no one ever truly knows. But he sounded like he had a good time. Morgan and Asterlea were present too, who enjoyed each other's company at a slight distance from the rest of the red capes present. Talisin on the other hand would likely be staring at Rhiannon who had passed all these petals along the aisle, though quickly waved it off. Enjoying the presence close to nature, in truth, we believe he was staring through the tree line and scratching his head at Picaron, likely talking to those around anyway. Another person was present, not in the stands but rather near where Lazarus and Gwyn were. A dash of white fur and a boopable snout laid Lazarus' hound, Socks. Who for once was not sleeping but sat perked up, his tail wagging (perhaps at the scent of the food that Talisin offered to bring) He was a good boy and well behaved. In similar likeness to fur and by the hound was another furred one. It was not a dog or cat but rather a Sihai, Wan Xia. Accompanied by his vielle instrument, entertaining those present with a hearty jig. All was merry amongst the crowds, for many this was a reprieve of the bustle in the city. Others a spectacle, a party of sorts. Now that everything was in order. The service would begin.
Essentially what would happen in the service was like that of any service, they would go through their vows and stuff, Alduir quite pleased to hear the priest go through the creeds, judged by the slow approving nod of the helmet. Talisin on the other hand, likely not too much, whispering his equivalents for his own Estellian faith. Though this would end and many in their heads would likely have a resounding 'thankfully' there for the vows are ever so tedious. Though this glass of boredom and mundanity would shatter with the 'I do' that woke anyone in the crowd who had since fallen asleep. For Gwyn and Lazarus on the other hand, this was a frantic and terrifying process to which both elapsed a sigh of relief afterwards, quickly moving onto the after-party.
The after party was a celebration all could enjoy. Foods whipped up by Talisin. More music played by Wan Xia, and Lazarus suitably embarrassed by the remarks of Seraphina, his dramatically chosen 'best man' whilst Alduir once more... Had his helmet on yet seemed cheerful enough still. Socks the dog ate well. Marisa and Rhiannon babbled on in Picaron, both of a sea-faring line happy to be close to it once more. While the crowd of Bloodcasts enjoyed a healthy amount of good food, company, and enough booze to confirm many headaches in the morning to come. The cutting of myrtle that Gwyn brought along would be planted in the ground, the wedded couple planting it together. One day perhaps it would grow into a fine tree.
Each individual went their way and left. Marisa was insistent on sailing people back home, some took it. Some didn't. Though the boat ride was fun. And so the beach once more returned to normality like it was before. The seas crashed, the hermit crabs warred over their individual rockpools. But a sapling of myrtle laid there, giving the beach a new companion upon its lonely existence. Gwyn had now adopted the surname Lupenzi once wedded and returned home in a joyous manner, Socks the dog carried bridal style home by the newlyweds.
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Writing mostly done by @MolagBallin with the formatting, some of the paragraphs and aesthetic by myself.
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