[OOM] The Amondsham-Telane Wedding.

[fluffiest_archadian]

It is a sorry bunch attending this wedding. The hall in Rabanastre palace where they sit is small, and there are still a handful of empty seats. Still, it's easy to tell who's who:

The garrison command, headed by a grey-haired man who gives off a grandfatherly aura, in their grey and red formal dress, along with a man and a woman dressed similarly, save that their uniform is black and charcoal with red highlights. There's a handful of soldiers who clearly aren't Archadian, too, dressed in blue and cream.

Rabanastre's merchants, dressed in a brightly coloured mismatch of patterned fabrics with hair styled elaborately and jewellery on their wrists and around their necks.

Nobles and ambassadors, by far the smallest of the group, in coloured (but not quite so neon rainbow) silk and wool. Several of them have fans. Most of them are muttering about how Liana is marrying beneath her station (and one so old). One family of four, dressed in canary yellow cloaks fashioned to look like feathers, just look charmed to be there, bar one young man who looks like he's trying to sink into his clothes and avoid the gaze of the garrison.

Business associates of the groom, who if the muttering from others is anything to go by may be celebrities. A few of them are jolly, older people, but most of them look like supermodels who have just stepped off the catwalk.


The wedding is - awkward. A man in very smart clothing with very shiny glasses runs through a set of vows, while the groom (whose shapeless robes really only accentuate the fact that he's about twenty years the senior of his bride) looks apathetic and the bride (of far more fashionable dress) looks distantly scathing, as if she's biting back about a hundred sarcastic comments.

When they are told they may kiss, the peck each other. On the cheeks. Like seagulls whose hearts aren't quite in it.


---

The reception takes place in Rabanastre Palace's expansive ballroom, a room that is opulent and glittering and has walls lined with frescoes depicting the glorious history of Dalmasca in charmingly abstract style.

There is a buffet. It has something very much like turkish delight on one end, but the yellow-cloaked family are converging on it and soon this won't be the case.

Sherral leads his visitors in with the garrison command and their guests.

"No stealing from anyone, no letting on about the magical bar, no killing anyone outside of mutually agreed upon duels," Sherral says. "Apart from that, enjoy yourself. If you see a security concern, Captain Beor," he gestures over at a large man in his twenties, "will no doubt be happy to hear of it."

Beat.

"Have fun."

Comments

Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

Autor, garbed in a blue and white robe he has managed to trip over not once, but twice already, flits about, having a grand time. He eyes the soldiers, asks the merchants for the price of certain common--and not so common goods, especially magical items--and bounces from them to the family of four in yellow.

"Are those real chocobo feathers?" he asks the youngest, and clearly the happiest to be at a wedding. He's fairly certain they're not real feathers; he would have started sneezing already. But it'll serve as an ice breaker.

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Said youngest - a girl of around fourteen with a silver chocobo charm around her neck - shakes her head fiercely.

"Golly, no, that would be really flashy. Chocobo feathers sell at five-hundred gil a feather."

Her mother leans over her with a plate of turkish delight, offering it - whether that be one or the plate entire - to Autor. "Do try one! They're marvellous, you don't get them like this anywhere other than Rabanastre."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"Ooh, thank you. Do you know the bride or the groom?" Autor says, plucking a small one off of the plate.

And, then, to the youngest, "Chocobos seem to be your favorites. Why are their feathers so valuable?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Oh, we just about know both of them. They're buyers. The garrison, too," the mother says. "Knew King Raminas and Princess Ashe, Faram bless their souls, when they were alive, too. Lovely people. Lovely."

"They're strong, brightly coloured, soft. People like to make fine quills with them, or use them for arrows," the girl says. "Chocobos are pretty important."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

Autor nibbles on his Turkish Delight and keeps an eye out for Sherral, just in case the man needs rescuing from an insufferable garrison member or something.

Still, this conversation is interesting. "Buyers? Am I safe in assuming that you do breed chocobos?" Autor asks, and then turns to the youngest again. "Ooh. I'm well aware of the importance of a good feather for quills, and for arrows, too. Thank you for telling me, though, I didn't think of that aspect for a chocobo."

Jay.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Re: Jay.

[runningred]

Jay turns up dressed in an elegantly cut black and red suit that hints at military without being the exact style or cut of any one army. He's hair is slicked back, neat and braided at the temples to highlight the white streak.

He give Sherral his most charming smile, falling in a step behind the captain.

Re: Jay.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Well, you're certainly going to attract a lot of attention," Sherral says wryly, himself dressed in in his mess dress uniform, with his medals pinned to his chest. "I may hardly get the chance to use you as a distraction."

There are indeed, already several people approaching, like needy sharks.

Re: Jay.

[runningred]

"Darling, I'm your distraction at a moment's notice." Jay says in a low voice, his smile never faltering.

He keeps an eye out for any members of the garrison he might know from last time as he watches the circling sharks.

Re: Jay.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Remind me some time that I owe you several favours," Sherral replies with a chuckle.

Gibbs appears to be present, although he's not dressed in uniform: He is, instead, one of the four in canary yellow cloaks, and he looks very much like an ideal world would involve that cloak swallowing him whole.

Illan is also present. She has the same slight hint of discomfort to her that Sherral does, and is keeping close to the other soldiers.

Re: Jay.

[runningred]

"You can make them up to me later tonight." Jay purrs, catching Illan's eye and giving her a quick salute.

He smiles to Gibbs too, giving him a polite little nod.

He turns back to Sherral, his voice low again. "Anyone in particular you need distracted?"

Natalya.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Nataliya.

[redintheledger]

Someone was having fun.

Calling herself 'Talya Alianovna', Nataliya had opted for something more ancestral than currently fashionable as her off-planet wedding party outfit. In theory, it was a costume worn by Tatar folk-dancers. In practice, she figured her ancestors had probably worn something with a slimmer skirt and a longer jacket.

Their loss.

While she got her bearings, 'Talya' hung out by the banquet tables, nibbling food and watching the crowd.

The dynamics were fascinating.

Re: Nataliya.

[fluffiest_archadian]

A few of the merchants seem - approving. She is something close to a familiar figure in a sea of imperialistic foreigners (which is, in many ways, the nicest way to describe the Archadians).

One - a woman somewhere in her forties, dressed in more muted colours than the other merchants - approaches, giving Nataliya a warm smile.

"I never feel comfortable at events run by the consulates. When Vayne was still consul, you sometimes wouldn't see soldiers there, but every consul before and since has insisted on having at least a dozen."

Moist.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Re: Moist.

[morethanprops]

Moist pouts at being told he can't steal but doesn't complain as weddings are always good places to people watch and find various opportunities.

Re: Moist.

[fluffiest_archadian]

It really isn't long before Sherral manages to direct some people over to him.

Specifically, a pair of noblemen, one of whom looks remarkably like a fox, right down to red hair, and the other one of which looks like a bulldog collided with an airship.

"So, I hear you're in finance?" Foxface says.

Re: Moist.

[morethanprops]

He considers them and puts on a smile, "Yes, I'm always looking for new ways to invest better."

Re: Moist.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Somewhere far behind them, Sherral subtly mimes a movement that somehow very obviously means 'They were trying to talk to me about the economy and it made me want to die, they're your problem now, I owe you one.' Which is quite a complicated message for mime.

"Oh, that is wonderful to hear," Foxface says, reaching forward to touch Moist's arm, much to the mild distaste of his companion. "I swear, half of these people don't even understand how money works. I tried talking to the garrison commanders and they looked at me like I'd grown a second head."

Re: Moist.

[morethanprops]

Sherral is fascinating to watch and Moist shakes his head sympathetically,

"No, I've found most people want the money to be there and not have to know too much about how it arrived."

Re: Moist.

[runningred]

Jay gives Alfred a gentle nudge, lowering his voice so only the conman can hear him. "Just because we're not allowed to steal, doesn't mean we can't rearrange a few things."

Re: Moist.

[morethanprops]

"Of course not and have fun since no one knows us here," He adjusts Jay's tie slowly which garners them a number of looks.

Re: Moist.

[runningred]

Jay purrs, making it clear to the watching crowd that he quite enjoys the attention. "Any particular challenge you want to play tonight? Aces in the brides pockets?"

Re: Moist.

[morethanprops]

"No, let's see what comes our way and what we can bring our way. This is a good look for you, wear it more often,"

The tie is given a final tug and then Moist pulls Jay closer and kisses him, quick but with a promise of more.