[P] Don't just sit in front of me and wait for me to talk
Wedding Ceremony | Egregore Prizmov, Elphaba Revlis
OOC: Nov 20; Wedding Ceremony Thread! You're free to reference the tremors throughout the thread. At this point in time they should be 'very noticeable, but not very disruptive', however later in the day they will slightly increase in intensity with 'things falling off of shelves'. This thread is set in the early morning.
pNPC: Mirte Haumann (exits at the end of the post; not present for the ceremony)

The tremors had started a couple days before and all Salsolans had taken notice of it. It had spooked the Prizmovs thoroughly, although Egregore explained to Innokentiy it was not the first time. A strange phenomenon that remained native to the land, dangerous but altogether not deadly—usually. The two immediately had a discussion after about postponing their ceremony but ultimately, with Lev and the Prismshard gone, Innokentiy and Egregore both felt the pressure to prove that their fledgling House was not falling apart. Instead, they would come out of the harder times together and the bad times would make them stronger.

Innokentiy stood fully dressed and decked in the most luxurious attire they could afford—nothing to scoff at as their wealth had ever been growing since their rise to the very top of the Central Ring. Mirte had been hired for her services again (perhaps it may have been a time to reach out to the Arbiter Lyra Salcedo, but Innokentiy did not know her well as of yet and as such did not trust her business). She currently stood somewhere behind Innokentiy, placing finishing touches.

“Do you zink… It is a bad omen?”

Though the question revealed a slight vulnerability, Innokentiy knew that Mirte would not give them an honest answer. This comforted them in an odd manner. They were both equal in status as Tradesmen, but as Innokentiy had hired her with goods, it was in her best interest for Innokentiy to have a positive outlook on the whole affair. She clicked her tongue, and spoke: “I’m a Mercante, not a Witch. But, as your partner told you it isn’t the first time the Thistle Kingdom has felt quakes like this, and won’t be the last. If it’s a bad omen on anything, it isn’t your wedding.” A coy smile found its way onto her face. “Our superiors aren’t having a good time of things, either. I imagine these disasters are signs meant for them, not us.” The statements erred cautiously on the edge of gossip, saying a lot without saying anything at all.

Innokentiy composed themself and gave an approving nod to her reassurances, however fake and practiced they might be. They could at least admire she was good at what she did.

On behalf of their obvious pregnancy, Mirte offered to walk them to the wedding site, but Innokentiy refused. “I’ll see you at the reception, then,” was all the fellow Tradesman responded with besides a twitch of her lips. Innokentiy nodded in silence. In their hands they carried a vibrant cloth, dyed with rather expensive-looking blue. This would be for use in the binding. Egregore carried its opposite: a length of fabric just as vibrant but in a blood red color. Upon locking eyes with the groom, Innokentiy’s expression did not change. A simple determination lay in their eyes. It wasn’t for a lack of love for Egregore, but some part of Innokentiy wanted this to be over with sooner rather than later. They did not have the strength to try and savor this, no matter how memorable the day might be.


So many shades of white, so many shades of pale
I know how to cut a wound that will not heal

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OOC: Blood is fronting.

Life worked in mysterious ways.

Tremors plagued the earth of this land once more. It had violently pitched and shrieked beneath Egregore's feet like this twice before, though this was years ago. He was not glad to see this phenomenon return. The last time a quake had occurred, it was very shortly before he had reunited with - and was quickly betrayed by - a childhood friend of his. And the time before, it was simply more conflict. This led Blood to become thoroughly suspicious about another earthquake. While Soul was more in the middle regarding the possible meaning, Mind was completely unamused by any supernatural implication. He cited the lack of logic in these superstitions, claiming it was all coincidence.

Blood knew better. It was not coincidence. It was fate. He simply prayed the earthquakes were an omen most potent for someone else, anyone else but him and his family.

It would be most cursed for misfortune to befall him on his wedding day. He was nervous. He wished to prove his great love for Innokentiy. He desired to show them that he would be a suitable mate for them. The life that grew within their very being was a powerful bond, one that he did not want to break. Soul would be worried about bastards if this mateship were to fall through. Blood would only be worried for Innokentiy and their pups' health. There had already been a close call when Lev had nearly attacked Innokentiy. Complicated emotions sprung forth once more in a tangled ball of yarn, a mess he was continually at odds with.

The anxiety shook his body in tandem with the earth's intermittent tremors. Did Innokentiy really love him, as he loved them? Would they be successful? Soul was very sure of the union and the benefit it would bring about, but Blood was less concerned about the materialism and reputation of it all. His definition of success was to see the continued joy on his spouse's face at the sight of him, to feel safe in their love for each other.

As he was outfitted by Amos for the ceremony, using the formal ensemble that Mind had so deftly bartered for at Fort Preble, he could not stop fidgeting. Egregore was grateful to have him as his friend, for they soothed each other's nerves. He held the scarlet red fabric in his open hand, eyes staring intensely at the fabric. He traced over the embroidered patterns with his eyes, then clutched it closely to his chest. This was the single most important bond that Egregore had. He did not want to squander it. He entered the room with careful step, shoulders set.

Their eyes met, and Egregore wished he could allow himself to melt.

It was difficult to not be emotional, but he managed. This was a quintessential event, perhaps the most important and magical in his life. It was also an incredibly serious one. He steeled himself and proceeded forth, cloth in hand.



That morning, as the sun rose over the eastern horizon, the ground below began to tremble.

Sequestered in the tallest tower, the Boss spent her early dawn deep in strange rites. She attempted to divine the meaning of the shivering loam in the only avenues available to her; seeking faces in the flames, answers in the afterburns on the back of her eyelids. At some junction her ministrations, or else the mild shuddering deep beneath the earth's crust, woke O'Riley. Noticing the spiralling intensity of her seeking, her cousin saw fit to remind her that the day held other equally-important designs. She had responsibilities to attend outside of the supernatural.

Because there had been no Crone since the last great curse, Elphaba Revlis prepared herself to oversee the Prizmov wedding.

The Russians were ready for her at the site they had chosen. She appraised their outfits with a sweep of her ruby gaze, and found them fitting; respectable, even, for members whose union would serve to bolster their foundling House. Each step they took within Salsola's complex culture was part of a magnificent dance, one that teetered between great power and great consequence.

Now they would undertake that dance together, as partners. For most this was a great boon - another to aid in steadying their steps, in keeping beat to the fast undercurrent of daily life in a serpent's nest. But for some, particularly those used to a solitary tune, it was a great risk. Now they were responsible not only for their own reputations, but for the reputation of a partner.

Every step was a gamble, but as she gazed thoughtfully upon Egregore and Innokentiy, Elphaba mused that the odds were in their favor. They seemed particularly well-matched.

"Come," The Boss held out her hands beseechingly toward the pair, "The time for offering your bindings is nigh. You have entered this space as lone travellers on the winding path of the Familia, that which leads toward greatness but is not without hardship or peril - you will leave it unified, bound to one another in the eyes of the Law, so decreed by the crown. Come!"

She indicated with a crook of the nose for them to place their chosen materials into her empty palms.


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