The Shattered City Postscript: Something Old, Something New

[NeoTiamat]

"You wound me cherie, you believe I would have done anything to miss such a splendid day and a sight as rare and fleeting as your exquisite self in a rather ravishing dress if I may say so. May I be so bold as to venture a kiss from an old friend?"

Katja gave him a long, level sort of look. It was probably to Nicolas’s benefit that for once, Katja was mostly unarmed. One just could not hide a sword or military crossbow in a dress, no matter how hard one tried. There was that knife strapped to her inner thigh in case of emergencies, but Nicolas did not really rate as an emergency. A minor concern, perhaps.

Thus, instead, Katja leaned in and offered Nicolas a kiss of welcome on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, very brief, but this was still more than Katja had offered anyone since you’d met her. She probably liked Nicolas. Or this was some cunning gambit to get his guard down before stabbing him.

”Katja, you're in a dress. I may need to check my notes, but that might possibly be interpeted as one of the signs of an impending shattering of time and space. My compliments for your willpower."

Katja gave Lia the same look she’d just given Nicolas. One had the feeling that she was going to be handing out many of them if people kept mentioning the fact that she was in a dress. “Why aren’t you?” She said bluntly, though good-naturedly.

"Now Katja ma chere any chance you could help me find a seat?"

“Why? You’re doing so well here.” The Lamordo-Darkonian woman said, expression very serious. Except for that slight quirk of the lip at the edge of her mouth, but otherwise it was very serious. “The bride and groom have not arrived yet, as well.”

“What have you been doing with yourself, Nicolas?” Katja said, giving Hughes d’Alençon a somber nod. I’ll keep an eye on him, it said. “How is Athene?”

[lostboy]

Nicolas was actually shocked that Katja deigned to kiss him, he had half expected a cuff round the ear at the very least, and some form of sharp bladed trauma to unnamed parts of him at the very worst. In fact he's so shocked he momentarily misses the next question.

“What have you been doing with yourself, Nicolas?” Katja said, giving Hughes d’Alençon a somber nod. I’ll keep an eye on him, it said. “How is Athene?”

"Athene.......?" For once Nicolas actually looked stumped for words, wondering how and on this green earth why he was talking about non-human, revolutionary, and exceedingly violent women he had had one-night stands with in front of the men who once sent him to prison for being drunk, disorderly and writing lurid filth, at a wedding where everyone was attempting to be civilized, to a woman he would'nt mind taking out to dinner, but would wear extra armour if he did so. In such a state of affairs there was only one thing to do.

Come clean, or as its somnetimes known..... lie through your arse.

"Oh yes err well actually I don't quite know Cherie." he begins, giving Katja a warmly venomous look that at the same time acquiesces that he probably deserved that for the kiss and was probably also taking fallout over the dress wearing saga. "After the events last year, and my departure from the Chateau, the lovely Athene and I eloped to Invidia, fresh start and all that. Quiet wedding, only close family invited, and we settled down in a lovely little cottage on the outskirts of Karina." He proclaims with a smile and something that looked unseemingly like an odd quirk at the edge of his own lip that mirrored Katja's own.

"Alas paradise wasn't to last, she ran off with the local baker, big burly fellow with an enormous mustache as I recall, and broke my heart..... Fortunately I'm a poet and heartbreak is but another form of inspiration, so I took a grand tour of the Western Core and composed several lengthy stanzas over it. Tell you what Cherie if we find a quiet spot later I'll regale you with the full unabridged version." Nicolas' eyes danced with amusement although his face stayed perfectly composed.

"But enough about me, where have you been since I last lay eyes on you Cherie, what tales do you have to tell? Or you Mlle. Mourneswaithe, looking as especially radiant as you do in that ensemble, what has the last year brought you?" Classic deflection in action there which hopefully might give him space to breathe between outlandish fibs and attempt not to get himself either turfed out of the wedding or arrested on the grounds of being a clearly disturbed idiot.

[The Whistler]

"I trust that this will be acceptable."

“Very much so, yes.” Yvette looked quite relieved to have defused the situation prior to Celeste’s arrival – you knew how Mlle. (currently) Viardot got about color schemes. “I do thank you for your flexibility; it will mean the world to my cousin… Now, there was something of a rehearsal this week past, but I assure you, the ceremony is simplicity itself. Simply follow behind Sister Doherty and before Mlle. Rondelet; stand when they stand; sit when they sit…no speeches on our part, but your mere presence will be a comfort to dear Celeste, I am sure.”

"And I do believe I actually have a seat. Though I'd love to talk with you more after the service."

“Splendid, splendid.” The Warden looked slightly disappointed to be postponing a lengthy dialectical discussion, but there were only five minutes to the wedding. “…No chance you’re familiar with the writings of Warden Simon Thackeray, then? Some trenchant points on the commonalities between-- Later, yes. I’ll look forward to it!”

Actually your Honour I know you in your official capacity, or at least I was on the receiving end of a sentence meted out in your official capacity.

“Hrm.”

…changed my life, learnt the error of my ways, been on the straight and narrow ever since, sober as a judge...., err I mean a priest...., err I mean well tea-total for the last year at any rate."

“Aha! Ah…mm, yes. Quite.” Hughes could convey an astonishingly wide emotional spectrum with eyebrow movements and half-articulated grumbling noises.

A VAST, TURBULENT SEA OF EXTRAORDINARILY IMPRESSIVE BULL-HONKITY.

“…I say, Sir! That is…your experience in the Courts…produce such a dramatic turn in manner of life; new leaf; et cetera, et cetera… Quite extraordinary indeed! Why, rather validates our fine Dementlieuse justice system all by itself, eh, Gauvain, old chap? I should say it does, at that.”

Hughes paused.

“Which Athene was that, then--”

“They’ve arrived!”

Warden Giroud snapped his watch shut, looking out down the main road. First, a small group of village children, laughing and trailing crepe streamers in their wake as they ran down the path to the gate. Then, the sound of the quartet from the gazebo behind you, striking up an old folk song for appropriate background. And then…

…Why, the bride and groom, of course. The former of which was looking exactly as happy, as lacey, as tulle-ey, and as downright beautiful as you would expect a bride to be. No avant-garde stylings here: Celeste Mirielle Viardot wore a cultist-forestalling frock for thwarting religious zealots, a ship-boarding-at-mightnight chemise for nautical espionage, and for a wedding…well, she wore a wedding dress. And it looked better on her than just about anything.

“Hello, fellow-lodgers!”

Did we mention that Celeste was very, very happy?

There followed a whirlwind of motion which was surpassingly difficult to keep track of, but gave you the impression that someone had been variously talking to you at a rather dramatic rate of speed, and had almost definitely given you a hug at some point. To wit:

“Oh, Warden Giroud, thank you again, ever so much for organizing the liturgy, and the event, not to say the efforts of M. Gauvain – oh, hello, M. Gauvain! Oh, that you should take time from your undoubtedly pressing schedule to attend the wedding of a trusted family friend, why it is simply too much to… Oh, and you have made still closer acquaintance with M. de Castaigne, and Mlle. Zweibach – Professor Mourneswaithe! Oh—Professor, it looks absolutely lovely on you! After witnessing it for myself I declare that I should see you in nothing but powder blue from here on after – oh, we shall make such a picturesque band, upon the stage – Sister Doherty! Mlle. Blackwood! Mlle. Rondelet! Dear, oh dear cousin Yvette! We shall have to plan our entrance apace, that our friends and relations might share in the joy of the moment to the very utmost… Oh, friends; relations; present and beloved all -- Welcome, welcome everybody!”

Ceremony's starting as of a post (probably late-ish) this weekend! Preparatory conversation until then, including conversation from my characters if you're talking to my characters.

[Isabella]

Gauvain was spared not actually giving a response by the arrival of the bride and groom. The latter of which, the groom, was looking just as happy as his bride - genuinely happy, which was a much better look for him than what he usually wore. He had, since the incident, had a rather strung out, grey look to him, an exaggeration of his original looks, but today he looked handsome in his blue suit. He smiled as Celeste blew through the crowd, and didn't bother with his normal theatrical affairs. A true showman knows when he's been outdone. Instead he just gave his finest bow, and a hearty laugh.

"Messieurs dames, I thank you for coming," he said, quite sincerely.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Mercator receives his salutation and embrace from Mlle. Viardot--strange to think that in a moment she will be transmuted to Mme. Boucher--with aplomb, smiling and doing his best to respond with an appropriate reply while she is in range. Not entirely succeeding, he smiles at the groom and offers his hand.

"I would never miss such an occasion. All best wishes for your happiness, now and in the future," he says.

[Nerit]

Nerit laughed, perhaps for once, genuinely. "Cherie, you are positively glowing. You must hurry to the altar before you explode! We shall follow."

For one who'd also taken vows before an altar, it was a very odd thing to say. But Nerit, as we know, was an odd sort of monastic. She grinned widely to match Celeste and Thierri, as if this was as important as her own sister's wedding.

In truth, it was the joy of witnessing a spoke in the wheel of life, made of free will and love. Who could deny its reflection of all that was good and true in the world, the world where darkness crept everywhere and penetrated the tiniest of cracks in a person's heart? (Well, Gauvain could, probably.)

Still, a melancholy, even a resentment of something long past, sat in the still waters of her brown eyes.

[lostboy]

…No chance you’re familiar with the writings of Warden Simon Thackeray, then? Some trenchant points on the commonalities between-- Later, yes. I’ll look forward to it!”

Nicolas makes a quesy smile in the judges direction. "But of course Monsieur....." then fades happily into the background before greeting the bride and groom.

"Ma Chere you look well... most positively divine, not unlike a rose in the first dewy throws of dawns light." Nicolas says punctuating the poeticalness with a well placed kiss on Celeste's cheek. "My sincere congratulations cherie, I deeply wish you all the oceans of happiness possible" He whispers sincerely in her ear.

"And you sir... quite possibly the luckiest man I have the misfortune to know, congratulations Monsieur." He says grasping Thierri's forearm and giving the magician an impromptu hug. "And a little something for later" he adds with a wink slipping a small metal tube into Thierri's top pocket, a small tube redolent of the fine tobacco of Neuva Aragona.

Still, a melancholy, even a resentment of something long past, sat in the still waters of her brown eyes.

Nicolas catches that look, and for a second he gets lost in it. To be honest the poet had spent the last year trying to forget what the sight of the good sister stirred in him. Intentions had been made very clear, still a look like that could quite easily break a man's heart. But for once he leaves the facetious (and somewhat lecherous) façade aside and simply places his hand gently on her arm once the Celeste whirlwind has passed by.

"I am aware I am dishing out compliments like they are going out of fashion, but it is truly a salvation to see you again Ma Soeur, and you are indeed a revelation of beauty this fine day. " Nicolas beams as he kisses Nerit's hand (chastely before anyone gets any ideas...).

[Kaitou Kage]

Rex was quietly amused that he'd gone unnoticed without trying. As Celeste arrived, he slid more away from the center aisle.

He didn't handle constant gregariousness too well.

LOL TINY POST

[NeoTiamat]

"But enough about me, where have you been since I last lay eyes on you Cherie, what tales do you have to tell?"

"I've been in Invidia and Barovia." Katja said, punctuating the words with a rather masculine shrug of the shoulders that was at odds with her almost dainty appearance now, eye-patch notwithstanding. Apparently visiting two of the most violent and strife-ridden countries in the Core was not exciting enough to warrant much comment. "A merchants caravan needed blades, and I signed up. No one attacked us, though we were stranded in Immol for a month due to snow in the passes."

"I hate Barovians," Katja said, making a face. She did cast an aside glance at Nicolas. "Competitive drinking when the snow is three feet thick is more your sport than mine."

Oh, and you have made still closer acquaintance with M. de Castaigne, and Mlle. Zweibach

"Yes. He has." Katharina Zweibach said, her expression cast from iron. It softened a bit at Celeste's obvious joy. Goodness knew that Katja couldn't stand Thierri, and that the feeling was mutual. But for Celeste's sake, they'd be good today. "Congratulations Celeste."

[The Whistler]

There were thank-yous, and congratulations in return, and a good deal more gushing, and eager directions and staging and calls to attention. And there was music. And then there was a service, which, true to Warden Giroud’s word, was either ecumenical, traditional, or both, depending on how you looked at it. There was a lot of sitting, and even more standing.

And then there was a woman and a man walking down the aisle. And there was a ceremony.


--------------------------


A reading from the Third Book of Ezra:

Direct your consideration to the innermost mysteries of the Faith, and therein the truth beneath all truths will be revealed to you.

Yea, for if you speak the Celestial tongue to those your fellow men, but do not have love, you speak only to the Mists.

And if you are blessed with the second-sight and know all in your demesnes, and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if shining city or verdant forest bend to your faith, but you are not possessed of love, you are only as the Mists. If you sacrifice all you own, and if you surrender your very body to the Land, but you are not possessed of love, you are only as the Mists.

Love is not deceitful; it is not rash. Love is not violent; it does not manipulate. Love does not cloud the way of things; it does not brood over injury. Love is peaceful of spirit; it is free of will. Love is exultant in the company of its fellows; clear of feature and clean of conscience; and always rejoices at the truth.

Love will be our redemption.

So saith the Lady Ezra.


--------------------------


“Please be seated.”

You were seated.

Warden Giroud cleared his throat.

“Dearly beloved, we gather here today in the sight of Ezra to join this woman and this man in holy matrimony. Not to be undertaken lightly, holy matrimony should be entered into equitably, with solemnity, and with fellow-feeling. Into this sainted compact these two souls approach the altar to be forever joined.

“Marriage is a sacred union between wife and husband, and shall remain in permanence forever after. It is the unshadowed manifestation of a single true love, and is a joining of two hearts, bodies and souls. Wife and husband must exist as supports to one another, and to provide love and healing, both in times of despair and in times of hope.

“We are here today, before Ezra and Mists, to witness the joining in wedded bliss of Celeste Mirielle Viardot and Thierri Boucher. This joyous occasion sanctifies the enduring love with which Celeste Mirielle Viardot and Thierri Boucher begin their lives together. Through the all-knowing wisdom of Ezra, you are joined together in the most unbreakable of bonds, that no Power may put you asunder.

“If anyone here can show cause why these two souls should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever remain silent."

Profuse apologies to the Apostle Paul for taking/editing his bit! From here on out, primary GM duties are Isabella's, and all bets are off. Have fun, guys.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Professor Mourneswaithe! Oh—Professor, it looks absolutely lovely on you! After witnessing it for myself I declare that I should see you in nothing but powder blue from here on after – oh, we shall make such a picturesque band, upon the stage!"

Lia's expression becomes ... neutral. In fact, one might say that all expression flees her face for a moment. Her hand tightens on her cane with such intensity that those standing nearby can hear a soft creaking, either of bones or of the metal. Just when those of a fearful disposition might start edging away, however, both the Mage's face and hand relax and she settles for a dry: "That will require you to wear tinted lenses at all our future encounters, M'selle Viardot."

"Messieurs dames, I thank you for coming," Thierri said, quite sincerely.

"Quite welcome, Monsieur Boucher," Lia murmurs.

And then the ceremony begins. Lia stands at her appointed position, her face alternately tolerant and stoic. While she is trying her best, the Professor has an unfortunate tendency to look more like a guard than a maid of honour. Especially when the call comes for those who object to speak out or hold their silence, Lia's aspect becomes a little too attentive. The way she grips her cane as her eyes sweep the audience suggests that she is likely to smash the first person to open their mouth over the head and bludgeon them into submission.

[yalenusveler]

Kerrian was on the edge of his seat. Not because he was expecting someone to rush in, Celeste's long lost childhood friend, here to confess his eternal and abiding love that he had held for her since their days as children, but had not held the courage to make clear till now. More because to him, this was all terribly new and fascinating. And he really DID want to have an in depth theological discussion later. But right now there was a wedding.

And quite frankly, if long lost childhood admirers DID rush in...well, time spent reading all those Dead Travel Fast romances WOULD come in handy for once.

[Nerit]

Nerit perked a brow at the poet. "A snake charmer as always, Nicolas. But it is good to see you as well." There, throw him a bone, every now and then.

=======

Along with Lia and Celeste's cousin, the bridesmaids were a varied bunch, and if anything showed that while she was rich, Celeste was not particularly discriminating. In a revolutionized world, maybe this was a good thing.

Still, they did their duty and looked relatively nice. There wasn't much to be said about it other than "stand there and look pretty." Mists, even the flower girls got to do more.

[The Whistler]

There is a *reason* why modern marriage ceremonies, across the multiverse, usually omit the “speak now or forever hold your peace” bit. Something about it just sort of tempts fate. The Dementlieuse Ezran church wasn’t on track to phase it out until the mid-850’s. More’s the pity.

Okay. What had been going on for the past thirty seco

elve hours. You wanted very badly to remember all of the specifics, but things had…gone a little skiffly in the interim. It was something that you needed to think through. Hum.

Well, for one thing, your brain was remembering very insistently that it had not been any sort of sunny day today, but a wait hold on of course it had been su

CLOUDY DAY VERY CLOUDY DAY THERE WAS A WINDSTORM

Yes, well, of course it was a very big windstorm, you had always expected there to be some sort of windstorm, and had always planned to not have rescheduled the wedding or held it indoors because of…there…being…a…w

LIGHTS

Right, and you had seen a bunch of lights, seeming to blink on and off in the sea down at the base of the cliff—in the sea?

Yes, your brain was very clear on that point. Why, apart from being in the midst of marrying people, had you not gone

TIDAL WAVE

down to investigate the blinki

TIDAL WAVE

…Tidal wave? In Dementlieu? Surely you were misrememb

PERFECTLY NATURAL TWELVE-STORY TIDAL WAVE DUE TO COMPARABLY EXPLICABLE WINDSTORM

urely you would have gotten out of the way with time to spare; there must have been miles of open ocean between y

COASTLINE-DESTROYING FOURTEEN-STORY ACCELERATED STEALTH TIDAL WAVE

…Okay, then. The persistent “terrifying, bone-shattering, indeterminately tall wall of black water” images that your brain was giving you rather counted as a point in its favor. On reflection, you had a number of equally unfortunate memories of 70 percent-ish of Fonquevilliers being ground into a fine powder as the wave swept laterally over the cliffs towards you, sweeping vast, carriage-sized blocks of masonry at the wedding party at several hundred miles an hour.

So there was that.

All right: pertinent follow-up question. Why exactly were you not dead, at present?

Fair point. A good number of you had fallen down, certainly, thanks to earth tremors and all that, but you were all superficially okay…

Ah, yes. The enormous, bubble-shaped hollow sphere of water that had surrounded the entire church garden, largely sparing the decently-sized chunk of ground that everyone in the wedding party had been occupying, and (thankfully) containing all the air that had been there at the time, while at the same time being both reflective and utterly opaque, so that there was absolutely no way for you to see what was going on outside of it.

Um.

Nope, that was definitely what had happened. For some reason.

Well. Small victories. The trellis and altar had only slightly been cloven in half by the force of the storm, and everyone in the wedding party itself seemed fine

EXCEPT FOR MONSIEUR GAUVAIN

…who…was…

LEAD POISONING MORTAR FIRE HEAD EXPLODED DUE TO PRESSURE DIFFERENTIAL HANGED SELF WITH OWN BOOTLACE CHOKED ON AN AVOCADO PIT EARLY-ONSET LEPROSY UNFORTUNATE BOA CONSTRICTOR ACCIDENT ILL-ADVISED PISTOL DUEL WITH TREASURY SECRETARY DUE TO DISAGREEMENT ABOUT PROGRESSIVE TAXATION

…What?

DRIVEN TO THE GROUND BY FORCE OF STORM, ACCIDENTALLY IMPALED THROUGH THE CHEST BY OWN UMBRELLA

Oh. Oh…god. That was a very sharp umbrella tip. You were not sure that you wanted to look at Gauvain any more.

And, now, that was a problem, because the rest of you didn’t want to look at Celeste. Who had acquired a pair of extremely reflective eyes at some point, and seemed to have learned how to hover. And was not talking at all.

This was not going to be a very good day.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"Right," Lia says as she picks herself up and dusts off her skirt. "Right. I... I can not face this looking like a marzipan cupcake."

Lia snaps her fingers, and her fetching blue dress turns dead black on the spot.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she calls to the audience, "please stay in your seats. For one thing, it's rather hazardous to the average health outside, and for another, we do not need a lot of running and screaming."

Lia snaps her fingers again, and the cane stretches into a proper staff. "Theroux?" she calls. "A moment of your time, if you can?"

The Mage faces Celeste, and her eyes narrow. "Hm."

(OOC: Arcana check of 21 to figure out what the heck is going on here?! o_o)