[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."

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral currently appears to be talking with the bride and groom and paying them his regards.

"Oh, yes," the mother says. "Esther Gibbs. My husband and I hold the Tchita Lowlands. We're the biggest chocobo breeders in the Empire. This is my daughter, Jemima."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

Autor bows to the two women with his hand crossed over his heart. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gibbs. Lady Jemima," he says, and straightens with a disarming smile. "I am Autor, a scholar. How long has your family owned the breeding business?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Ooh, a little under two-hundred years," Lady Gibbs said. "Since Tchita became part of the Empire. We're not as old and storied as some houses, but everyone respects good chocobo breeding."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"Of course, chocobos are quite useful, and not just for their feathers, as the Lady Jemima pointed out," Autor says, nodding appropriately. "To be perfectly frank, I don't know much about them, but I'm eager to learn more. What's the most reliable breed for transport? Are they difficult to breed in general?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

The two's explanation is remarkably in depth, and peppered with personal anecdotes, especially from Lady Gibbs. Chocobos, apparently, are very ill-tempered birds, and their cravings for gysahl greens can get out of hand.

"Oh, gosh, you mustn't get us started on chocobos, though, darling," Lady Gibbs says, some while after getting started on chocobos.

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

Autor absorbs it all with some amusement, ever the rapt pupil, and asks them increasingly detailed questions. He does, however, keep an eye out for Sherral, just in case.

"Whyever not? They are fascinating creatures, and you're both so knowledgeable," he says, chuckling softly. He's wondering if he should confess his allergy to birds, and decides against it. "I appreciate your indulging me, Lady Gibbs. Lady Jemima."

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Oh, it's no problem at all, dear," Lady Gibbs says brightly.

Sherral approaches, giving all three of them a smile and inclining his head. "Lady Gibbs, Lady Jemima. I do believe you're two of the few here I'm pleased to see here."

"Captain Maduin!" Lady Gibbs says. "Did this boy come with the garrison? He's a delight."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"You are too kind, Lady Gibbs," Autor demurs, offering her another bow, and then one to Lady Jemima. "Captain Maduin is a friend of mine, and I came at his invitation."

Autor turns to Sherral. "Managed to pay your respects?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You make it sound like a funeral," Sherral says, wryly. How apt is left unspoken.

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"Oh, Captain Maduin, don't be so droll," Autor says, and his eyes shine wicked whereas the curve of his mouth doesn't. "It's a wedding. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions."

The fact that this one isn't also goes unspoken.

"Lady Gibbs, Lady Jemima, it has been an absolute pleasure," Autor says to them. "But I believe I should take my friend to the punch bowl."

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

There's a split second of slightly Alsatian why the punch bowl confusion, with Sherral cocking his head at Autor, before he nods, bowing briefly to the two women.

"If you should see your son, do give him my regards."

"Of course. It was wonderful meeting you, dear," Lady Gibbs says to Autor.

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

Autor matches Sherral's bow. "May we meet again."

When he and Sherral are a sufficient distance from anyone else, Autor turns to his friend. "A funeral procession usually isn't this amusing, or so I've heard. I've never been to a funeral either. How are you holding up?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Steadily accruing useful information," Sherral says, "and there's not yet been any hint of a security breach." Which roughly translates as 'well.'

He inclines his head. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, which is good. The Gibbs are delightful people."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"It's good that you've better scouts out there than me," Autor says, grinning. "I could tell you all about the fastest chocobo for the job."

He shakes his head. "They really are, and I am so far," Autor says, glancing towards the two ladies again as a soft blush colors his cheeks. "I didn't mean to pull you away from them if you wanted to talk. I'm sure you can approach them again."

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral laughs. "Believe me, I will never be short of chances to speak with them, one way or another. They have plenty of business dealings with the garrison."

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"Excellent," Autor says, and scans the guests. "How fare the bride and groom? They look like they really hate each other already."

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"With luck, neither of them were suffering under the idea that a rushed political marriage was going to be a particularly happy event," Sherral says.

Re: Autor.

[herr_bookman]

The boy shakes his head. "Shame, that," Autor says, picking at the edges of his sleeve as if its a favored, frayed blanket. "Is there anyone you think I should talk to, or should I pester the garrison commander?"

Re: Autor.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You're welcome to pester anyone you want, lad," Sherral says, giving Autor a light tap on the arm with two fingers. "Aught reason you want to talk to Ronick, though?"