[OOM] The Amondsham-Telane Wedding.
Dec. 14th, 2014 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fluffiest_archadianIt 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."
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."
Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:00 am (UTC)Jay.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:00 am (UTC)Natalya.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:00 am (UTC)Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:01 am (UTC)Re: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:07 am (UTC)Re: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:14 am (UTC)"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: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:23 am (UTC)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: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:26 am (UTC)"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: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:29 am (UTC)Re: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:34 am (UTC)And, then, to the youngest, "Chocobos seem to be your favorites. Why are their feathers so valuable?"
Re: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:39 am (UTC)"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: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:43 am (UTC)"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: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:44 am (UTC)"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.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:57 am (UTC)Re: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 01:44 am (UTC)He shifts towards the one with his hand on his arm.
Re: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 03:07 am (UTC)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: Jay.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:28 am (UTC)He give Sherral his most charming smile, falling in a step behind the captain.
Re: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:33 am (UTC)Re: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:46 am (UTC)"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: Jay.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:49 am (UTC)There are indeed, already several people approaching, like needy sharks.
Re: Moist.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:53 am (UTC)"We should get a drink. Have you tried the wine?" Foxface says. "It's from the bride's vineyards. A very fine red, if I do say so."
Re: Jay.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:54 am (UTC)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.
Date: 2014-12-15 10:59 am (UTC)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.
Date: 2014-12-15 11:09 am (UTC)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?"
Re: Jay.
Date: 2014-12-15 11:19 am (UTC)But the question about distractable people is a good one. "Not yet. Take your pick of the people interested in you."
Which currently includes at least one soldier in blue and cream (who looks to be the leader of the handful of those soldiers present); a pair of noble women in greens, golds and purples who might be friends of the bride; and one of Amondsham's 'associates', a supermodel-esque man dressed just conservatively enough not to rouse attention.