fluffiest_archadian | [OOM] The Amondsham-Telane Wedding.

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."

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Sherral might realise he's being played. It's impossible to tell.

Either way, he cants his head towards the corridor and growls a brief command for Jay to follow, before heading towards it.

Some time later, Jay santers back into the party, looking a little ruffled and a bit flushed. He heads straight for the bar and gets himself a stiff drink, looking around to see what he's missed.

One of the Judges - the male one with the unfortunate beard that is very disquieting for everyone around him - looks rather displeased. Perhaps he had an argument with somebody.

Amondsham's business associates have started signing autographs, too, and all look rather tipsy. Bordering on drunk, even.

It's worrying that that fabulous sex puts Jay in the mood for a good fight and he finds himself drifting towards the Judge with the unpleasant beard, as much out of curiosity as anything else, wanting to see what's up.

Said Judge gives Jay a level glance, with a slight flick downwards to take in the clothes.

"Do you need something?"

Jay gives him a nonchalant shrug. "Another drink, possibly a fresh shirt. Other than that, I think I'm good. You?"

The Judge looks slightly sneering. "Been rutting with the soldiery, have you?"

He lifts one shoulder. "I dislike that there are so many Rozarrians here. So many Dalmascans and Bhujerbans."

Edited 2015-01-14 10:30 (UTC)

Jay gives him a sly smile that neither confirms or denies anything.

"Quite a cross-cultural party, isn't it. Lovely seeing everyone getting on so well."

"They are lawless and base," the Judge says, dismissively.

He leans back against the bar and sips his drink. "Perhaps. But handsome." Antagonising much.

The Judge gives Jay a withering look. "And what of you? What is it you do?"

Jay offers him another playful smile. "I'm a weapon's specialist."

"An invitee of Ronick's garrison, then, one presumes," the Judge says, a shade flatly.

Edited 2015-01-14 11:03 (UTC)

Again with that sly smile that lets on nothing and everything.

The Judge snorts. "I do not understand the Empire's fascination with this city, that Vayne might see Ronick placed as guard and Zecht's dog leashed here. Yet all seem enraptured with this place."

"I don't know. It has it's pleasures." Jay spots a handsome soldier across the room and winks.

Said soldier blushes bright red, shuffling slightly.

The Judge scowls.

"Anyway, I should leave you be. It looks like you have very important things to do."

"Does it, now," the Judge grumbles.

Edited 2015-01-14 11:30 (UTC)

Jay flashes him his most charming smile. "Well, I know I do." And heads over to say hello to Illan.

Illan glances at Jay, then at the Judge.

"Been enjoying Judge Audyne's company?" She asks, in the tone of one who knows that nobody enjoys said man's company.

"You know I really was." Jay grins playfully. "Till the urge to torment him into a brawl because far too strong and I had to walk away."

"I hope he leaves soon. I don't trust him," Illan says. "Nor do I much like his temper."

"Yeah, I get the feeling I missed an outburst while I was getting some air." Smoothly delivered and without apparent irony. "I take it that temper of his got a little hot?"

"Not so hot that he decided to exercise his rights as a Judge in the middle of a wedding party, but hot enough," Illan says. "Gallego tried to engage him in conversation."

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