Date: October 17, 1998
Place: Acesian Estate - Civitas Dei
Cast: Altair, Azura, Cassius, Elidi, Eranthe, Ilario, Jana, Leonidas, Lysander, Martinus, Siranae, Xanthiel (I)
Scene: Lysander and Eranthe are wed amid much pomp and circumstance.

Acesian Estate - Civitas Dei:
      House Acesius has long been one of the most powerful, wealthy, and influential lines of nobility in the entire Empyre. Its estate reflects both the presence and power of money and privilege. Sprawled out over a large portion of the southern Palentine hill, the estate is covered in lush greenery and groves, punctuated by statues, fountains, and marble benches for sitting and enjoying the sweet fragrant air. From the hill, a stunning view of Civitas Dei lies before you, spread out far off into the distance and shining like a jewel of the Heavens.
      The main house lies set back far from the main estate, its gleaming white columns reflect both age and skillful crafting. The estate itself seems to be prepared for some sort of an event-- from the looks of things a wedding. The highest spot in the estate has been decorated with flowers and ribbons, giving the stone dais a breathtaking array of colors. Resting upon the dais itself is a statue of Apollo himself which was said to have been sculpted when he was alive. Seats have been placed in front of that area for what appears to be a large number of guests.

From the House Augustus, the sounds of minstrels can be heard coming up the path. This signals the approach of the bride and the groom, and is the sign for all to assume their places within the Acesian Estate. Others from around the Empyre have already begun to gather; Aegians, Tribunes, and men of great power seemed to have turned out for this event. Clearly, it is a hallmark that the ones who are getting married are both respected and powerful. Down the way, one can see the fluttering of the procession's banners.

Ilario and Siranae come along the path leading to the city below.

Continuing his murmured conversation with Elidi, Cassius makes another quiet comment as he escorts her up the hillside to the lavish Acesian estate.

At the end of the journey, Jana seems to be clinging to Altair's arm. Her face is paler than usual, and she looks up to him to comment softly in a whisper.

Azura, Martinus, Lysander, and Eranthe arrive along the path leading to the city below.

Elidi's mouth curls upward gently and she nods to Cassius in reply. Each step she takes parts the slits in the skirt of her gown, revealing the length of her leg.

Altair smiles warm and confident, leaning in to listen and then whisper back to her softly.

Leonidas shortens his normal lengthy stride to keep pace with Siranae, bending to murmur something quiet to her before straightening again.

Smiling teasingly in Leonidas' direction, Siranae lays a hand upon his forearm as she leans close to whisper her reply.

The sound of the approaching minstrels has drawn closer still, and it is clear that they are upon the path leading up to the actual estate. Soon, the banners which fly the colors of the House Acesius appear, and the music is at its loudest. The first in the procession appear: Magnus Iolanthe, an Aegian, for he bears their mark and stands as Lysander's second. Marcus Severus, an advisor, and several others of note are seen amongst the reverie. The parents of the bride and the groom are next in line--the bride and the groom are last in line, bedecked in all of their finery.

With the confident motion of a battleship at full sail, Azura makes her presence known in the procession. Hand resting upon the arm of her husband, the woman manages to walk a relatively straight line while keeping her head tilted enough to flick glances toward the bride. While a certain smugness accompanies her confidence, her eyes remain sharp, watching for any signs of faltering or hesitation.

The other guests have taken their places in the seats, and clearly one would be hard pressed to disparage this assembly. Leander Herculanus, an Aegian stands with a small gathering of his fellows--some of the most esteemed amongst that august body: Tribune Marcus Augustin, Nicodemus of the Aegis, Xanthus Aurelius--a Tribune as well, Andromeda Tritonides, who serves as advisor to the Aegis, and many others whose names are no less noteworthy. Certainly the seat of the power in the Empyre has been gathered here today. All attentions are upon the entering couple and their parents. The dais beneath the statue of Apollo remains waiting for their arrival.

Jana does not seem to be very reassured by Altair's words, and she whispers something else to him as she slowly walks along.

Leonidas guides Siranae to a place clear of shoulders from which to witness the ceremony. His cheeks tinge a little red, and he clears his throat quietly, then murmurs to the woman on his arm again.

Eranthe moves alongside Lysander, holding his hand as they make their way up the path. Upon seeing all the people, a sizable collection of "who's who" in the Empyre, her already nervous expression deepens into something mirroring terror. Breathe! In and out... you remember how, don't you? She leans in closer to her husband-to-be, lips stirring in a whisper for his ears alone and the knuckles of the hand holding his go white. Suddenly, what Megeara did--that eloping thing--does not seem like such a bad notion. Help!

Lysander's hands clasp Eranthe's gently as he moves with her. Clearly he is there as both her husband-to-be as well as support for her nervousness. He himself seems calm and collected, for he needs to be, or they'd both probably never make it to the dais to complete the ceremony. When they crest the hill, he bends to whisper something softly to her, reassuring, before they proceed with this. The sight of all these people gathered is indeed an amazing thing--impressive even for someone of his great standing and experience.

Elidi's eyes are upon the wedding procession now, and perhaps it is her apparent interest in it that seems to make her unwilling to look back at Cassius. Or unable. Her hand, however, is still curled about his elbow.

Altair stays close to Jana, his free hand coming over to give her some reassurance as it rubs her shoulder. He whispers back quietly.

Martinus walks with pride next to his lovely(?) wife, the regal way he has decided to hold his head not allowing him to look any direction but straight ahead, but that is not important. He is part of the group that includes a large number of the Empyre's most important people, and not only does he walk with them he is in one of the spots of honor! This man could not be much more pleased with himself if he was being named the Emperor--'much' being the operative word... who knew the clumsy one in the family would bring him such power?

And what wedding of a Princeps would be complete without the Emperor? Lucian Deiepetes and Appolonia Acesian make an appearance with surprisingly little fanfare, for today is meant to honor the bride-to-be and her prospective husband. Lucian wears the indigo, Delphic robe of a clairvoyant rather than the garb of office, and takes a spot unobtrusively near the rear of the procession with Appolonia at his side.

Ilario dutifully watches the procession, though his interest wanes as it goes on, and he glances over the nearby crowd. However, once the bride and groom appear, he's all attention again. With a smile that threatens laughter, he watches Lysander and Eranthe making their way towards the dais.

Jana's lips quiver in a faint, fleeting smile. Leaning a little more heavily on Altair's arm, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. As if she were a puppet whose strings had just been severed, her shoulders and wings relax. Her head begins to droop.

Her eyes twinkling slightly, Siranae merely pats Leonidas' arm and watches the wedding go forward.

As her husband's nose is too high in the air for him to properly direct himself, and because she is simply a rather aggressive person, Azura directs that pair to a position just back from where the ceremony will take place. She's just close enough to things to be able to insert a 'supporting' glare, should her overly nervous daughter require prompting at the right moment.

After speaking softly with Eranthe, Lysander turns towards the dais which will be the spot where the ceremony will take place. He guides Eranthe along with a patient, slow hand, a smile coming to his face as he looks once again towards the others who are gathered. To those of note, he makes his acknowledgments with a brief nod, and moreso to the Emperor himself as Lucian appears with his bride-to-be. The others who have joined the procession make their way to the seats, the music having since faded off into silence and leaving only the wind blowing through the groves and trees of the Acesian estate. An almost somber silence has fallen over this scene, yet beneath seethes a sense of hope and anticipation.

Xanthiel Augustin stands near the dais, smiling softly as the procession containing his cousin nears... His own wife, Ilyane, stands at his side, and the glances between the two speak words... no... volumes. Their own wedding may have been nearly twenty years past, but at times like this the feelings are just as strong. Raising each other's clasped hands, the look Xanthiel sends Eranthe is one of encouragement, as if reminding the woman that this all is worth it.

Beneath seethes a sense of hope and anticipation... and a sense of queasiness. At least, that is, on Eranthe's part. The words Lysander whispers into her ear stir up a small, uncertain smile, but her death-like grip on his hand remains. She tries to not look at all the people. She tries to just imagine they are not there. It isn't working though. So, she tries another trick: imagine them all naked. How can one be afraid of a bunch of naked people? Ooo .. bad idea. She ducks her head a little, a sudden blush burning her cheeks, and shifting in closer to the Princeps so that it seems they are fused at the hip. Peering over her shoulder at her mother, attention is taken off her course a moment. Stumble... but, yippee, she doesn't trip. Aside from a little clumsiness and the color in her complexion, she makes it to the dais unscathed.

Martinus is bullied to his spot by Azura, though undoubtedly the man has managed to convince himself that he chose to go there on his own. His eyes are now on Eranthe, and from the looks of it he is almost counting the seconds before she makes a mistake and cancels the whole event. The pride, of course, remains.

It is with some measure of pride that Cassius watches the procession, and his cousin, Eranthe--if one wanted to label the faint curve of his lips and the gleam in his wintry eyes. With Elidi on his arm, he moves toward an appropriate place near the dais and awaits the ceremony's beginning.

Elidi moves with a casual grace at Cassius' side, long-used to ceremony as a member of the Guard. She glances to him, briefly, coppery eyes drifting to his face and then darting away lest she make eye contact.

The stumble of Eranthe causes him to pause somewhat, but like a good husband, Lysander is there to take up her mistakes and do so without complaint. He leans down again and as the blush spreads across her cheeks, he seems content to whisper encouragement to her--to elicit that smile once again and relieve at least a little of her tension. Reaching the dais, he settles onto that spot and releases his hand from Eranthe's for just a moment. Turning to face the crowd, he searches their number and makes the announcement that will begin the ceremony, "I call upon they who will act as the Sibyl for this marriage?" Those in the crowd search the others to see who will stand forward.

Altair looks to Jana on his arm and smiles, glad he could be here to help her.

Azura looks about for a moment. Husband properly placed, daughter in position at the altar. (Thoughts of sacrifice comes to mind...) All is as she wishes it, for the moment. Her eyes stray toward the crowds, seeking out the Sibyl as well. This woman would likely perform that task herself, if 'twould move the ceremony along toward final completion quicker. She's anxious. Never has she seen Eranthe go this long without breaking something, or embarrassing herself.

Jana slowly lifts her head as she releases Altair's arm, moving forward at a snail's pace. Her voice lifts high and clear, "I will."

Eranthe breathes a sigh of relief as eyes turn off her, as those collected search through the crowd. Her grip on Lysander's hand loosens, but only by a slight bit, and she shuffles in closer to him. It will be all right ... all she has to stand there... and remember what to say. What to say. Her eyes open wide as her mind goes silent, devoid of thought. Um... she swallows as her gold-dusted wings stretch out with a nervous sweep, feathertips brushing a nearby vase of flowers. It teeters but does not fall. Good. A five minute stretch without breaking anything is a very positive sign.

Lysander nods to Jana and gestures her forward, turning to face Eranthe as he awaits the Sibyl to join them both on the dais. Meanwhile, the slaves have position a table off to the far right of the dais and on the table a scroll which is obviously the marriage contract that will be signed. One slave stands at the ready next to the table. He looks calm and resolute at these moments, his eyes fixated only upon his bride, as if she were the only thing in this moment which mattered.

Swathed in her heavy, indigo kaftan, Jana makes her way forward to the dais. She carries herself with every ounce of regality she can muster; though her pale cheeks and wide eyes betray the nervousness that boils within. Once she ascends the steps and takes her place, she pivots on her heel to face the throng of Empyreans.

Martinus winces as his daughter's wing brushes the vase... way to go, swift one. For your next trick why don't you just grab one, bust it over the Princeps head, and have it over with? But no... it doesn't fall. His sigh of relief is audible, mirroring the one that Azura gives at his side. We're saved... for now...

When Jana has taken her place, Lysander turns to her and speaks in soft tones, "What say you Sibyl on this union? What have the fates in store?" It is spoken almost as if it is a challenge--such is the tradition and it is good luck to speak it as such so as not to appear weak to those who control such things.

Azura stares hard at the young Sibyl, wincing slightly at Lysander's words. Please oh please let this girl not be so keen in her sight as to give count to the number of valuables that will be broken, the important personages blithely slighted, the... She looks away, resting her head upon her husband's shoulder. Of course, this will be what prevents the marriage. It was all too good to hope for.

Eranthe shifts her weight from foot to foot, the length of her dress swishing about her legs. Nervous glances are cast out over the crowd, to her mother and father, to the Sibyl and then, finally, to Lysander. She pulls in a steadying breath, her wings flicking outward once more but not far enough this time to threaten any breakables. What do the fates have in store for them?

Elidi finally turns her head just enough to glance at Cassius sidewise, canting her polished penny eyes at him in a mild look. Upon the Praefect's face, the expression is almost comical compared to her usual expressions.

Jana closes her eyes briefly, gathering her strength. Then when she opens them, she begins speaking in quiet, heavy tones. Arms hanging limp at her sides, eyes unfocused as they gaze to a point far beyond the walls of the House. "I have gazed upon the Loom of Fate, and I have seen the destiny it weaves for these Threads. Their life is rich with color, hardened by the trials and tribulations of life, softened by tenderness. Long does Atropos weave their threads, through valleys dark and light." She drones now, speaking as if in a deep trance. "Be strong against the darkness of the night, be strong against the hatred of night. You prevail."

Xanthiel, and evidently much of the crowd, has a very different opinion than that of Martinus and Azura. Faces look hopeful... look happy... things will go right because things are just too right for them to go otherwise. This is his cousin's day to shine, and shine she does. The most beautiful woman in the gathering. Oh, and the groom isn't all that shabby looking himself. This will be a marriage to be talked about for years!

Cassius watches and listens in silence--if he feels any worry for the clairvoyant's predictions, he does not show it. War may be threatening the Empyre, but he, at least, seems assured of its outcome. And if he isn't, he hides it well. Likewise for the marriage of his cousin and the Princeps; perhaps one of the last few jubilant celebrations Civitas Dei will enjoy before more troubling times prevail.

The Princeps watches as Jana reads their fates, relying upon the wisdom of magic to see a path into the future. He remains close to Eranthe, but his eyes are focused on the Sibyl and the reading. Eyes are focused and firm, utterly attentive to that which transpires. When she has finished speaking, he nods in agreement--apparently the reading is something which he expected. Looking back to his bride for a moment, he smiles with reassurance and newfound hope, for even the fates have determined that they will prevail. "So it has been spoken." He looks towards the wedding contract and then towards Martinus and Azura, "Will those who will witness this contract please stand forward at its reading?"

Eranthe seems to relax a bit as the Sibyl speaks. That does not sound so bad, aside from all the darkness. And, after all, there would be no day without night. Her gold-accented wings quiver before she tucks them in close to her body, resolving within her mind to keep them still. How long this will hold out, though, is anyone's guess. Her pale-blue eyes flicker between Jana and Lysander, the girl catching up one corner of her lip between her teeth, forgetting herself to give it a nervous chew. As the Princeps calls for witnesses, her attention sweeps to her parents. Okay ... steady, girl. Not too much more to go. And then it will be over. Steady...

Stepping forward from Leonidas' side, Siranae make her way toward the dais for her part in the ceremony.

What's this? Her daughter is to become a weaver? I didn't think Deas had to work. Azura's head rises up from her husband's shoulder with a puzzled look. But, the Deus looks pleased, and that's all that really matters. With a swiftness that's lacking in social graces, she grabs Martinus' hand to pull him forward. She's in as much a hurry as Eranthe. On this, they agree. Hurry up and get it over.

Ilario keeps half an eye on the ceremony, and the rest of his attention on the crowd, watching those in attendance. He looks back as Lysander speaks once again. The contract ... wasn't there something ... Wait a second! He was supposed to sign it. Recovering rapidly, he scoots through the crowd and moves up towards the dais, mustering all the dignity he can. If he seems concerned about standing before the gathering, he certainly hiding it well. After deferring to the others moving forward, he follows towards the table.

Jana remains standing where she is, where she will watch the ceremony until its completion. And after her reading, she slightly bends her head and turns it to watch the bride and the groom. She remains as still as a statue, with an expression equally as serene.

Cassius murmurs something quietly to Elidi before stepping forward to take part in the ceremony, as Patriarch of Augustus.

As this is called out, Magnus, who was Lysander's second, and another cousin to the Acesian by the name of Cassiopia, step forward. They are joined by others from amongst the ranks of the wedding-goers. Two of the House Augustus join as well to bring the number who stands forward to ten.

Lysander watches as the witnesses emerge from the crowd and nods approvingly, reaching out, he grasps Eranthe's hand and speaks to the slave who stands next to the table, "Read the marriage contract so that all might hear." The Princeps' voice is calm, and as the contract is read, he gazes back to Eranthe, letting the words wash over him as he savors this moment with her on the dais.

Elidi is a silent witness, but she seems almost relieved when Cassius moves to take his place on the dais. Behind her, pale wings shift and twitch, canting away from her lower back slightly as she clasps her hands there in an unconscious return to 'parade rest' after so many years of service in the Guard.

Martinus is duly dragged forward by his wife, though his steps were surely fast enough, and why won't anyone let him do what he's good at...? Looking full of himself. Well... he manages to pull that off anyhow, being dignifyingly dragged towards the dais to listen to a bunch of words basically saying that we finally get to get rid of Eranthe. Sigh.

A bit of a murmur runs through one corner of the gathered House Acesius, and some questioning glances are thrown Ilario's way. There are at least a few family members wondering what the boy is doing up there.

The slave reaches down and takes the contract into hand. Breaking the seal, he unrolls it and the middle-aged mongrel begins to read, his voice loud enough so that all might hear it:

"Let it be known that on this day, August 8, in the year thirty nine hundred and three, that Lysander Marius Acesian and Eranthe Martina Augustin shall be join in the bonds of marriage. May this union signify a newfound respect between these two noble Houses and let none disparage what they have created in it. Into this marriage, Lysander Acesian shall inherit a portion of the lands of House Augustus in the form of a dowry. Such shall consist of three thousand dinars, ten slaves, and two parcels of land. These shall become the property of the House Acesius. Eranthe Augustin shall furthermore be known as Eranthe Acesian, and shall inherit all titles and respect due the wife of Lysander Marius Acesian."

The slave pauses and nods to Lysander, who in turn looks to the ten who have gathered, "If none can find ill with what has been spoken, sign your names so that all might see."

When the reading is done, the paper is set down and a quill provided for each of the witnesses to sign their names.

Eranthe stands by Lysander's side, the words of the contract which drift through the air being nothing more than a blur to her senses. She watches as, one by one, the ten witnesses step forward, to pen her over to the Princeps, so to speak. This is really happening. She is really here. This fact only seems to settle upon her during this moment, and wide eyes slowly turn to look at the Acesian patriarch. He's going to be her husband. Whoa. Guess this means that she isn't a little girl anymore. Her thin control over her wings diminishes, the feathered limbs stretching outward to tickle that vase again. Teeter-totter ... nope. No crash yet.

Taking up a quill, Cassius moves forward to add his name to the parchment, after taking a moment to re-read the words written thereon.

Azura's wings twitch in an echo of her daughter's as she watches the others place their names. Hers will be last, the final stroke sealing the fate of this day. There's a certain satisfaction in that, and that is what she's all about.

Sign my name?? Okay... where's the quill? M. A good start. A. Getting there... R. We're on a roll! T... Martinus hmms for a second, trying to look like he's concentrating before continuing. I. N. He may actually do it folks... A. S. And what do we have? Martinas. Oh well... close enough. If anything, nobody else writes quite that messily, so everyone knows who it is. Smiling widely, Martinus (Martinas?) places the quill down and gives a satisfied nod of the head.

The others seem to nod in agreement with these words, Magnus striding forward and penning his name to the parchment behind the others. Cassiopia next and then the Augustin representatives. Soon, each has placed their name along with the other witnesses on the contract.

Ilario moves forward when his turn comes, taking pen in hand and signing with a flourish. No deliberation over the contract, no meaningful look at Lysander. He just gets the signing over with as quickly as possible and steps out of the way for his cousin Siranae, who follows and places her name as well.

Jana moves forward suddenly, jerking herself out of her stupor. With slow, careful movements, she approaches the slave that had set out the contract. She slowly raises her arms to her waist, palms up, as if she is preparing to take something.

The slave reaches down and produces a light orange ribbon, which he hands to Jana.

Waiting till the others have signed, Lysander's eyes watch carefully once each has placed their name down. Then, he turns towards Eranthe again and waits the words of the Sibyl who shall entwine their fates with a ribbon. Still having her hand, he raises both of theirs slowly in offering to Jana. There is a calm look on his face, eyes staring into his bride's, as if he was trying to lose himself there. If one was even slightly empathic, they could tell that he was deeply stricken with this young woman. Those rumors about the Princeps seem strangely misplaced in moments like these.

Jana takes the ribbon carefully, then pivots on her heel to face the bride and groom. On silent feet, she makes her way forward, expression dazed and unfocused. The young girl stretches it gently in her hands, then begins to tie it about the couple's outstretched hands, intoning, "As Fate has decreed that the threads of your souls be entwined, so now I do bend to her will and bind you. Husband and Wife. One to walk the shadowed path that stretches so long." She finishes tying the brightly colored ribbon and takes one step back. "What Fate has now joined, let no one part."

Okay. Here it comes. This is it. Eranthe fixes her pale gaze on Lysander alone, for to look elsewhere would be a guarantee on her barely-maintained composure collapsing. Her wings flex steadily, showering the dais with the gold-dust drifting off her feathers. The crowd gathered to witness this union fades from her consciousness, becoming nothing more than static surrounding her. Even Jana blurs away in this moment, the young Augustin barely aware of the ribbon binding her to Lysander. Just... breathe... and remind her heart to keep beating.

Azura, having penned her name with great satisfaction at the end of the list, now watches the binding of the hands with eager intent. Now, they are joined. Now, Eranthe can break as many vases as she might wish. The girl is now married into the wealthiest family in the Empyre. Those Acesians are likely to put up artwork just for the pleasure of watching it fall. She sniffs, slightly, and to the less jaded of the audience, no doubt looks like a typical mother about to cry over this beautiful moment.

Elidi's eyes are turned toward the dais, but she seems to look a bit beyond the twining to someone or something else there. A smile hints about her mouth, and the bit of a furrow upon her brow smoothes. In that instant, she seems to remember how she is standing, and a touch of color enters her cheekbones as she unclasps her hands and takes up a more elegant stance.

As the ribbons are bound about their hands, tying his larger to her smaller, Lysander's eyes watch that spot with an almost rapt fascination. Perhaps in that moment, he realizes that this is for real, the moments before having been something akin to a whirlwind of a dream which had swept him away on a wave of passion and love. Those words seem to echo in his mind and then come to his lips almost naturally as the breaths which Eranthe fails to take, "What Fate has joined, let no one part." And then he smiles, widely, for it is done. Blessed by magic, born in contract, and united by love, they are husband and wife.

Another slave, a young girl who will serve as one of Eranthe's maids of honor, appears with a plate, and upon the plate is a small loaf of bread. She proceeds towards the dais and the couple which has gathered there. Stopping before them, she offers a loaf with child-like eyes to both of them.

Ilario watches the couple. Where else is one supposed to look, after all. At least the maudlin part is coming a close. He steals a glance over his shoulder. Where are they serving the ambrosia from, anyway?

Wow... you know, Lysander's lips are moving so that must mean he's speaking. Eranthe, however, is oblivious to what the words are exactly. It is kind of amazing really, how things can slow down to the point of crystal clarity. How you can hear every bit of breath as it enters and leaves your body. How you can feel each contraction of your heart as is pushes blood through your veins. The details ... the smile lines about one's eyes, the way one's hair falls across the brow. Every little thing matters. For perhaps the first time in her life, she is not nervous. Her wings are still. The girl approaches the couple and the young noblewoman slowly turns her attention toward her. Blink. It's done? They're married?

Lysander looks down at the girl and keeps that smile worn on his lips. "Thank you." With his free hand, he reaches down and grasps the loaf off the plate and looks back to his wife. Grinning just a bit, he almost playfully offers her the one half of the object so that she might tear it and begin the festivities. Strange how even ancient habits spill over into the modern day, were this cake that was.

The little slave girl runs off with the plate, for perhaps she was more shy than the bride.

Eranthe curls her hand over her end of the loaf, a small, lopsided smile tilting her expression. The hard part is over; there is little she could do now to mess things up. There is a moment of hesitation, the girl biting on her lower lip to keep her grin from consuming her face, before she twists her grip... tearing the bread asunder.

And the bread is broken in two by the efforts of each hand. Lysander twists a bit and it comes in two pieces. The grin turns to a smile as he takes a bite of the loaf and thereby makes the signal for others to rejoice and make merry. The bride will do the same, and the ceremony is at an end!

Azura leans with sudden exaggerated weariness upon her husband's shoulder. As if she had been the one to carry the weight of the entire ceremony upon her own back. The sudden happy shouts of the surrounding crowd wash over and around her, she's a silent moment amidst the loud tumult of congratulations and bursts of applause.

Elidi draws a deep breath and swallows, visibly, her right brow twitching upward. She's not looking at the couple. Oh, no. She's looking quite distinctively at a certain Deus. Moistening her lips in an uncomfortable movement, she is more than relieved by the sudden rejoicing of the gathering as the ceremony is finished.

Martinus smiles down at Azura, a relieved smile crossing his face as he gladly takes the extra burden on his shoulder. After all, Azura finally got her greatest wish... no more Eranthe to deal with... she deserves a break. And as an added bonus, it even looks like the girl is going to be happy with the guy that was convinced to take her!

Cassius lifts his hands to lend his applause to the ceremony's end, and casts an approving smile in Eranthe and Lysander's direction. But his eyes don't linger on the newlyweds for long. All too soon, they are dragged back to the Praefect, and he arches on silver brow, quizzically, as if awaiting an answer to some unspoken question.

Ilario joins in the applause with a light clapping, turning a congratulatory smile towards the bride and groom. He throws a quick glance to either side, checking if any of the other witnesses are moving from position yet. Nope. Ah well ... keep clapping. They've earned the moment.

The music from the minstrels begins almost immediately, filling the air with a festive sound. Even the most hardened of nobles and soldiers at the ceremony have smiles on their faces by now. Perhaps not for the couple's mutual happiness, but its always nice to see the Princeps gushing over a woman, when normally he's so austere. Applause comes from some people and a shout from others. Some of the women cry, and others look elated. Reactions are mixed, but now it is a time for merriment. Lysander turns to face the group and smiles widely, "There is food and drink in the manor house for those who wish it!" Slaves are made ready to tend to the needs of this crowd.

Nibble-nibble. Eranthe takes a chew of her bread, a few sizable crumbs falling down the front of her dress. She peers down as she chews, her eyebrows lifted slightly as she brushes the tidbits away. Oops. A faint blush brews within her cheeks and she sweeps her gaze out over the crowd ... and, thankfully, all are too busy cheering and gearing up for the post-wedding festivities. Let the party begin. Smiling a bit, she takes this moment to lean in toward Lysander, placing her mouth close to his ear to impart a few words.

Lysander finishes his words and leans closer to Eranthe as she whispers, the smile worn on his face like a badge of honor. His free hand finds her shoulder as he seeks to steady himself, drawing them to an intimate distance they can now share publicly in marriage.

Altair stands, applauding the ceremony and the newlyweds. He looks at the Princeps and his bride, having no doubt they will spend the rest of their long lives together in happiness.

Elidi calls over the crowd, though the answer is lost in the sudden raucousness, "Possibly!" There is a touch of wickedness to her tone and her face reflects it, eyes sparkling as she shakes off that earlier discomfort and decides to be merry with the rest of the crowd. Her arched eyebrow mirrors that of Cassius as if she challenges him to dispute her answer.

Oh, it's all so happy! Oh, the joy! Oh, the... Food? Azura's head snaps upward at that call and turns like a lead weight toward the magnet of the manor house. Without so much as a congratulatory glance toward her daughter or new son-in-law, she begins making her way in that direction.

With a quick little shake of his head and a smirk curving his mouth, Cassius descends from the dais to rejoin Elidi, and lead her toward the table where a feast has been laid out. Now that the ceremony is over, let the celebration begin.

At the first chord of the music, Jana takes another step back from the newlyweds. Hands clasped before her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, she seems to be waiting. She looks longingly over the crowds, past the dais and the doors of the House. Does it not seem natural that one so young would wish to cast off these robes of mysticism and ceremony to go party? The odd, moist gleam in her eye and the resistance of a smile's appearance suggest that she will not be joining too greatly in the festivities.

After a few moments, Ilario withdraws back towards the crowd. He's confronted almost immediately by a nervous-looking mongrel servant, who conveys a terse message. Ilario looks briefly troubled, then his thoughts turn around and he smiles with an almost impish delight. He sets off towards the manor house, strolling along like he owns the place.

Ilario heads onto the main house on the Acesian estate.

Were others watching they might actually see a rare sight--Lysander blushing. When Eranthe mutters in his ear, the color of his cheeks darken slightly and he turns to face her more completely, leaning his lips down to contact hers in a gentle fashion. He does not respond immediately with words, rather with actions that themselves seem to embody their happiness.

Altair looks up at Jana a moment, curious as he catches a glimpse of her expression. He waits where Jana left him, not knowing if she will need him to escort her further.

Jana seems to remember herself, and without a word, she moves away from the dais to where Altair stands waiting. As she nears him, she reaches a bony hand out to take his arm. Yes, she will still need him as an escort.

Eranthe isn't one for engaging in deep, public lip-locks. Hell, she's not one for engaging in them in private either. As Lysander's lips press to her own, a blush warms her cheeks. However, this is a rather special occasion and she returns the kiss sweetly, lifting her free hand to slide fingers lightly along his jawline.

Altair smiles warmly, taking Jana's arm in his. He leans into her a little, whispering softly.

Food, food, food. Azura hits the banquet tables full steam. Aided by the slaves, she quickly has a plateful of goodies and a goblet of ambrosia and a well-pleased look about her.

Lysander lingers with Eranthe for a moment and then looks toward the manor. As the others are filtering in that direction, he keeps his bound hand with Eranthe's and starts off as well, the look upon his face is one of utter elation. By the looks of things, this is one of the happiest days of his life. Some of the others who have attended the ceremony move to congratulate him, while others mingle and speak on politics. After all, the Empyre is on the brink of War.

FIN  

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