lucetilogs | (no subject)

Who: Gai, Elizabeth, and all invited (and possibly some uninvited) guests
What: A wedding!
When: Just before sunset on June 30th
Where: The beach
Summary: Finally, after much planning, pre-wedding jitters, and ice cream consumed, this is it. The big day. Gai and Elizabeth are finally getting married. (Never mind the fact they've been technically married since the draft... shhhh.)
Rating: Keep it G, people, this is a public venue.

[The ocean has returned, the day is clear and sunny, and wedding fever is back in the air.]

[This time the location is the beach, and between the setting sun, the waves, and the decor there is no lack of ambiance. little battery-powered votives in paper lanters litter the space, and larger lanterns line a yellow petal aisle that leads up to a decorative arch with a few chairs. Over to the side is the reception set up, which looks like it can accommodate more guests than the ceremony. Frames draped with chiffon and lit with little electric light strings indicate both food and bar/drink areas, and similar setups surround both small and large tables for seating, lit both with electric lights and votives in varying glass jars. And of course, there’s music and an open floor for dancing.]

((OOC: Close CR/specifically invited friends are welcome at the ceremony, but the party is definitely for anyone who wants to come see the spectacle or welcome back the ocean! ♥ ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I think the universe was trying to tell me to get back to my studies.

[He gives a smile and opens his hands in surrender.]

A small, dark creature. More art about her than cunning off the stage.

And what is any Rosalind without cunning.

[There's a touch of pride beneath the words, but mostly they are level, understanding and accepting of this reality. She has been ruthless in her lifetime - something Robert knows better than anyone. Silently, she chases down the rest of her glass and sets it aside, in a cluster of similarly-empty glasses on a mostly-vacated table.]

Nothing more [he replies with the same evenness, but with a hint of admiration beneath the words] than a facade.

[And his own glass is set aside as one song ends and another begins.

He makes a small bow and offers his hand wordlessly.]

[She takes it and turns into the dance in a single motion, a turn and a pace, numberless hours in their home and Columbian parties and every hidden corner of a world unstitched from time.]

One can hardly escape facades when dealing with people.

[He moves just as easily into the dance, falling into step with her as he has often done. In life as well as dance and work and everything else since they did the impossible. His hand curls around hers lightly, almost tenderly, and his hand rests against the small of her back.]

But when that is all there is, one cannot help but be disappointed.

Which leads to the question: would a world devoid of facade be diminished as well, in its own way? [She tucks in close and steps into the waltz, so long-accustomed to the motions that her mind can be entirely elsewhere, gaze unfocused on the know of Robert's tie as she ponders the question.] Steak and pate are very fine on their own, but they hardly make a Wellington.

[The waltz is familiar. As natural as walking or breathing. Perhaps more, as it was something they'd continued to do even after the habit of breathing or eating or sleeping was worn away by time spent being infinite.]

I imagine it would. Without masks, there could be no appreciation for what they conceal. Truth would be meaningless without the possibility of lies.