Date: August 10, 2000 (Aether: December 1, 3906)
Place: House Jove - Palatine Hill - Civitas Dei
Cast: Agenorides, Alcmena, Arianna (II), Aristedes, Aurora, Cassius, Cersei, Jana, Kalypso, Magnus, Martinian, Octavian, Olivia, Versus, Xerise
Emits: Empyrean girl & crowd (Versus), Magnus (Martinian)
Scene: Martinian Gesial Jove and Arianna Cassia Augustin are wed in Civitas Dei, thus forging a link between two prominent noble Houses.

House Jove - Palatine Hill - Civitas Dei:
      One of the oldest Houses and still the most prominent, House Jove lives up to its reputation. Elegant marble columns, rare blue marble tiles on the floor and opposite from the entrance an enormous statue, a finely made semblance of the Kronian, the founder of Jove and the Emperor of all Gods. A permanent offering of flowers is arranged in front of his feet as he sits on his throne, keeping an eye over his descendants.
      To the left and right, dark wooden doors lead farther into the House, the kitchens, private quarters, the Emperor's guestrooms, the ancient cella. Murals adorn almost every wall, depicting the deeds of the mighty Zeus, glorious and marvelous. Benches are placed where comfortable couches are not arranged in small groups, all offering a fine view of the drawings.

Befitting status -- both acknowledged and desired -- House Jove has spared no expense to bedeck their lands in full regalia for the wedding of their new Deus and his betrothed. The colors of Jove are prominently featured, the deepest midnight blue traced with accents of gold and white, banners hanging from on high woven with the symbols of this most August house. No matter how familiar one may be with the sigils of House Jove, the eye is drawn nonetheless -- the pegasus leaps majestically, wings the white of purest snow unfurled, arching over a golden banner inscribed with the words 'Archi Caelesti.' Between the awe-inspiring arches of the mythical beast wings cross two lightning bolts, worked in such gold as to glow with even the faintest light.

A dais rises gently at the front of the hall, the few stairs inclining only gradually toward the platform. A semicircle of snowy marble pillars extends out to either side in a careful arc, the distances and angles between each precisely ordered enough to make one suspect that they were placed there by someone with a firm grasp of geometry and mathematics.

A stir of colors and a flutter of feathers -- slowly, the wedding's guests filter in through the broad archway that borders Jovian grounds. Conversation that began as a timid trickle cultivates to a pleasant swell of laughter and conversation, spirits apparently bright for this festive occasion. The procession has not yet begun, brief time permitted for the guests to settle in.

A daughter of Augustus is being wed today; the daughter of its Deus, and members of that loosely-knit family have traveled far and wide for the occasion. The fact that the wedding had to be postponed once due to an unfortunate gryphon accident (and by all accounts, the 'Iron Grip' of Juventas, Agrippina, has fully recovered; causing more disappointment than rejoicing), has not dampened the enthusiasm of many of the House's members.

A cadre of them arrive now from Palatine Hill, including many of those who've traveled from Haven to be here. The Deus, resplendent in white, blue, and silver -- with the purple 'clavus' upon his garb marking his status as an Aegian -- enters with his hand on the arm of his cousin and a recent widow, Olivia Augustin. In addition, Agenorides, the Deus' aide, and Versus, his nephew and one of the elite Schola, are also in attendance -- and one can hardly forget the young and imperious Alcmena -- who will hopefully be on her best behavior for the afternoon's festivities.

Stopping not far from the wedding pair is Versus -- an armor-clad Praetor with red chlamys that proclaim him to be the member of the elite Schola -- guards of the Emperor. He is an Augustin, and here to witness the wedding of his first cousin. Dressed in unsettlingly pitch-black armor with methodical Imperial decorations, he represents the bastion of strength and pride of the Praetorian line and their place within his illustrious family.

His cold blue eyes scan the guests once, keeping their predatorial nature well in check. A faint smile plays on his lips when Versus looks at Arianna, but his hands are crossed at his chest. Above them is a pendant of a golden Imperial eagle -- the aquila of his unit and the symbol of the gods.

Stepping into the estate of Jove is the young Matriarch of Tritonis, sans husband -- and without any member of her House guard. Her golden hair sparkles in the light -- every hair in place, as if she hadn't made a long journey and gotten little sleep in the past day or so. In her hands is a small, linen-wrapped package -- a golden bow decorating the type. Kalypso's smile is bright, as her head dips to a few acquaintances she's recognized. It doesn't take long for her to settle into chatting with an old friend, laughter often dotting the conversation between the two.

Attired as befits a scion of Jove and second to the man of the hour, Magnus enters at a stately pace, making his way through the gathered to the front. He steps to one side, and turns to wait as he takes up one of the places of witness. Expression inscrutable, his eyes are only for those that come behind: bride, groom and the others requested to stand particular witness to this union.

On Cassius's arm, here to witness and congratulate her great-niece by marriage, Olivia subverts herself to being nothing more than another guest. This is Arianna's day, this is Arianna's celebration, and she happily demurs to the young, exquisite bride. Olivia is content to remain at Cassius's side and soak in the unique bliss that is a wedding.

The chatter of the arriving guests seems jovial and resonant, filling the walls of this great house with a feeling of great anticipation and an energy not easily found in daily routine. Servants -- all dressed impeccably well for the occasion -- are tending to the very last details of the ceremony, under tight scrutiny of their superior who ensures that all will be working fine, or else...

The breeze that enters the house with each opening of the large door makes it only halfway into the hall, but for those from Haven, the sounds of Civitas Dei are a unique feel of home and an element that raises the elegance of this occasion. A group of musicians is gathered near the door, still idle now, but ready to indulge the gathering in well-rehearsed melodies, when the time comes.

Alcmena sighs dramatically when she enters the Jovian Hall. Her china-blue eyes take everything in, but she is absolutely sure not to let her mouth fall open with the beauty of it all. She sat through hours of hair pulling and cheek pinching and last minute chiton fittings (how hard could it be? It's pinned fabric!) to be presentable at her Dear Cousin's wedding. And how does she look? Like a young lady -- remarkable, as she seemed only a child a short time ago.

In her arms, Alcmena carries a practical bower of interwoven gardenias laced with golden chains with clever trinkets attached -- Azura Augustin's memorable gift-giving attempt. Alcmena is fairly embarrassed by her mother's 'instinct,' but manages a smile. "It's sooo romantic," she says to no one in particular.

Taking propriety to its extremes and perhaps too far, as is sometimes his wont, Agenorides separates himself somewhat from the Augustins once upon the grounds of the festivities. Position is taken up at what he believes an appropriate spot, and the crowd surveyed, he standing with his hands clasped behind his back and a neutral cast to his face. It gives him an almost pleasant expression, but for his eyes, which are scarcely ever anything but sharp and quick. One might not immediately know he does not bear the name of House Augustus, but the lack of wings will set him apart easily enough.

A quiet entrance is that of Xerise's -- so unobtrusive and deferral to the others of higher station around her that it is a distinct possibility she could simply be swallowed and enveloped in the mass of the other guests. And that, to the scholar from Januarius, is as it should be.

In her hands rests a scroll, tied shut with a gossamer ribbon of gold. Xerise holds it almost reverently, hands protectively cradling the item and preventing it from being mangled or dirtied. She finds her way to the edges of those gathered, slipping into place as quietly as she entered. Her usual solemn expression remains, even when it is turned upon the wedding couple -- but there is the merest tinge of excitement to her movements. Alcmena's comment cracks those impassive features with a smile that is at once wistful and acknowledging. It is, isn't it?

As the guests arrive and take their places, one man stands at the periphery of the crowd. Well, tries to stand, but really ends up doing more pacing than anything. But how can you not expect a man to be nervous on the day of his wedding?

A servant posted nearby seems to be there for just the purpose he moves to serve -- to remind Martinian of when he is to enter. A touch on the arm, a quiet word shared, and the new Deus of House Jove gathers himself to enter. He fussily straightens tunic and toga and as he begins his walk toward the dais, the crowd murmurs and then quiets into an expectant hush. He smiles at this, unused to being the center of attention despite his newfound rank, and moves smoothly up to the dais.

Martinian:
      Ash-blonde hair falls straight, though there is a hint of curl at the ends. Pale-blue eyes, the color of pure, perfect ice, though not always so cold. Simple features in a simple face. While tall, he is not so much taller than average, and while not solidly built, he is not so slender either. The polite smile that falls like a mask over his face, the thoughtful gaze, the serious features -- outwardly the picture of a plain man. Most often of quiet demeanor, there is the air of a scholar about him, an intellectual. Finely-shaped wings sprout from his back, the only part of him that is not rigidly controlled and stoic in manner -- they move expressively even when the rest of him does not.
      In contrast to his common preferences for plain and simple attire, Martinian Jove has made a bow toward formality and fashion on this, his wedding day. His tunic is the purest white, with hems and collar lined by a thin stripe of deepest blue worked with intricate gold embroidery. The toga draped over him is of this same blue, the fathomless color of the night sky. For once in his life, at least, he projects an aura of power. In everything but the faintly nervous twitch to his face that flickers tenuously across his otherwise calm exterior.

And so it begins. As the groom makes his way towards the dais, the crowd slowly lowers its voices, and heads start turning into his direction. Most are smiling... a radiant type of smile that comes from the heart. A few are looking with jealousy, knowing who it is that will be his bride. Only a handful -- those sour at heart -- seem not amused by the entire spectacle; perhaps here just out of necessity of their status. They are drowned in the collective approval of the wedding.

Towards the rear of the chamber, the rippling, hushed voices intensify with anticipation. Glances are thrown back. Is it time? Are they coming? Someone gestures to the musicians, and an appropriately grandiose anthem fills the airiness of the estate. Heads turn, moving almost as one to observe the procession and catch the first glimpse of the lovely bride.

As those who the actual day is for arrive, and the festivities look about to begin, Kalypso and her newly-found companion move towards the rest of the crowd, blending in and watching for the bride with anticipation. Weddings are so festive, always to be enjoyed -- although young Kaly didn't always feel that way. And so now she watches with the others, waiting for Arianna to appear.

Already present in the great hall when the guests started to arrive, the Empress -- scarce for many months, at least within Haven -- tilts her head in polite acknowledgment to those few who glance in her direction. She is poised, elegantly-attired, and flanked by a quartet of the ever-present Schola who make up her personal guard. Her presence is meant to be unobtrusive, although perhaps there is a disgruntled murmuring among a few of the guests. 'At least she is dressed as an Empyrean, this time,' is the gist of a few of the comments. Aurora appears oblivious to any unrest her presence here might cause, and she watches the proceedings with a serene grey gaze and a faint smile.

Noticing the Empress, Versus' head rises slowly and his visage becomes much more professional. Two Aegians and the Empress... an impressive wedding, indeed. Well fit for his cousin. He may be off-duty and just wearing the Schola uniform to uplift the importance of the ceremony, but who is really off duty in Civitas Dei these days, anyway?

Keeping his post near the dais, and remaining one of the few standing guests at the wedding, Versus surveys the crowd slowly, and examines the four Schola around Aurora, narrowing his eyes as if to discern something private... perhaps their names and rank. Seemingly content for the moment, he nods faintly to them and turns his attention towards the groom. From the corner of his eye, he keeps everyone in sight. It comes with his profession, really.

Bedecked in the heavy, traditional kaftan of the Delphic Order, the little Oracle Tritonides walks up the aisle with all of the dignity she can muster. She is the first in this stately procession, chosen to act as the Auspex. Her chin is elevated at an angle to make it possible to look down her nose at those she happens to glance at, but the image of aloofness and superiority is shattered at the sudden, flickering smile at her lips. She's eating this up like candy. It's not too often Jana gets the chance to show off her clairvoyant expertise outside of a lesson environment.

Restless fingers are interlaced, dangling before her just below the waist. Thus composed, a fragile image of calm and serenity, Jana takes her appointed place upon the dais and commences to wait. Grey eyes roam about the crowd, then settle upon the happy couple about to be joined in wedlock.

At the far reaches of the grounds, foreheads are nearly touching as warm conspiratorial murmurs are shared between bride and pronuba in those scant few moments before Arianna is to follow at the Auspex's heels. Fingers absently give a gentle tug to one of the purple-hued stones that is suspended at her throat, and with that, the bride breaks away from Dea Acesius to direct her gaze and attention towards the dais.

A quick, lip-biting study is given to the ground to the right side of her, before serene composure and smiles are easily and genuinely gathered up once again. The steps that carry her forth are even and fluid, eyes wavering to the guests on either side of her before drawing forward once again. Without an escort at her side, there is but Jana before her and Selene behind; conscious poise carrying her the requisite distance without the hints of a misstep. Once at Martinian's side, Arianna's chin tilts up to flash him a broad, radiant smile, indicative of the joy to be found in such a matrimonial union.

Arianna:
      Moonlight's silvery kiss is full upon this diminutive creature, and all is resplendent for this most joyous occasion. The top of locks of sterling and white are swept upward and secured by a slender circlet, while smaller, circling tendrils lightly rest against the sides of her temples. The remainder of the shimmering locks are left unbound, tumbling in loose ringlets to her hips. A slender and swanlike neck holds her head up high, an instinctive lift tilting her chin upward at a slight and prideful angle. Her fair features are a delicate composition of impeccable breeding -- a natural carmine coloring her high cheekbones, expressively wide sky-tinted eyes, lips lush and full. Vitality and bliss are all-too-revealing within those windows to her soul, cheeks perpetually flushed.
      At first it seems a modest white, but with a slight turn or a capture of light, and all is aglow in luminescence with this most exquisite fabric. The delicately silver-woven silk chiton seems sweeps down to her delicate ankles, modestly insinuating at the curves beneath in its descent. Tiny clasps with amethyst stones are positioned at her shoulders and elbows to cradle fabric near the length of her slim arms. But these small items of adornment pale to the finely crafted necklace that surrounds her throat. Two tiers of chains support five stones of varying shades of purple, from a center stone of lush violet to pure crystal on the two outer stones. Her large snowy wings are folded comfortably against her back, each feather seeming to be dusted with a silver powder that causes her wings to glisten and shimmer in certain lights. Tiny feet are encased by a pair of lightweight sandals with red straps, as is the tradition for Empyrean brides.

Fortunate for her familial standing and her own yet petite nature, Alcmena stands in front of many who would otherwise block her view. She is quite pleased by this, and covertly gazes on each and every person attending, memorizing details as she is sure to recount them many times over. As it settles on the groom, she lets out another dreamy smile. But then the bride! Oh, Cousin and room-companion, she nearly melts with the anticipation of it all.

For her part, Olivia remains silent; she is a member of Augustus courtesy of her marriage to the late Dominus Claudius, and in some ways, she feels acutely self-aware in the manner to which she is associated with this House and the August (no pun intended) company in which it travels. But she is content to be here nonetheless, and she smiles at Arianna with the pride of an aunt, with the pride of one who appreciates the innocent sweetness that a bride brings to the ceremony. Her attention is for Arianna alone.

With the most subtle of movements, Xerise turns her head -- more finely coiffed than is her usual wont -- to fasten her eyes with the others that await the entrance of the bride. That smile has not yet faded -- although it has picked up its own touch of radiance from the others and grown. Expectant and as eager as any to witness this joyous occasion, she still manages to keep a certain aura of calmness about her.

As Arianna proceeds up to the dais, Xerise takes in a deep breath and free a hand to touch momentarily to her breast before letting it drop to her side. So, so beautiful.

There is one easy choice to make this night, and is that not, at the very least, the purview of the less important? Or, better yet, their privilege? The peace of mind that their choices will affect little in the grand scheme of things. So it is with such peace and calm that Agenorides chooses discretion over valor, for there is no call to valor at a ceremony such as this. His eyes are, by a great margin, the most active thing about him, with his lips easily the least so. It is his first wedding and logic dictates that by doing nothing, he will neither make a fool of himself nor others or, worse yet, disrupt anything. Ahh, such a simple and easy life.

Like so many others here, Cassius turns to watch the procession, and his wings fidget restively at his back. His expression, normally so stern and austere, holds a different mix of emotions. Pride mingled with regret, and a touch of wistful sorrow that flickers fleetingly in his pale blue eyes. They settle upon Arianna as she appears, and stay upon her all the way up to the dais, where she moves to stand beside the man who will become her protector, and into whose House she will go.

As the procession brings his bride into sight, Martinian really only has eyes for her, and they are eyes widened by the sight of her radiance. Each step that draws her closer only brightens his smile -- a smile rarely seen in public. And then, as she stands before him, her own brightness brings out the same in him. To those watching the groom's eyes, there is a twinkle to be found, as though he were sharing some private joke with this woman about to become his wife.

A tilt of her head, just a wee bit of a stretch -- and Kalypso still can't see. Whoever said that petite is better certainly never had to try and see around taller folk. She's sure that the bride is beautiful -- doesn't really need to see her to know that, but all the same -- it would be nice.

And so Kalypso is quiet, waiting for the young woman to rise up, on the dais. And then the smile stretches across her face, as she whispers with her friend. Phrixia is smiling just as widely as Kaly, an inclination of her head as she hears the words of Kalypso. They are not unlike the other guests, whispering and talking -- quietly, though.

Once each member of the procession has found his or her place, the wedding anthem that had so grandly filled the air now comes to its closing. The musicians are now silenced, but their instruments are not allowed to grow cool. It will not be long before they are needed again.

Silence is countered by the brief whisper of voices -- compliments on the bride's appearance, the joy of weddings, anticipation of the wedding feast. It is brief and short-lived. The next phase of the wedding is about to commence.

As the procession reaches its end, Martinian's Second, the Dominus Magnus Jove, turns to face the crowd. Distinguished and formal, he casts his hawk's gaze out over the assembled guests and says in a deep voice that carries to all corners, "Be welcome to this joyous occasion, on behalf of the couple to be wed, and House Jove."

One smooth movement turns him to face the Oracle, and Magnus continues in that same sonorous intonation. "To you, Oracle, I challenge you to bring forth the future, to speak of what Tyche holds in store."

Olivia, startled, raises her gaze at the rich resonance of that voice. Magnus is an orator, and his syllables are silvery as they carry throughout the gathering. Then, almost as if she had not moved, she returns her focus to Arianna and Martinian, the two who so thoroughly deserve the due being accorded them this day.

Versus smiles faintly at the sight of Arianna, as she passes near him and towards her groom. Fully expecting not to be noticed by her -- it is, after all, her day -- he takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes deamingly. His hands are still crossed on his chest, and only his cape shifts faintly with each passing gust of air generated by movements of the servants behind him.

A quick glance at the Empress, and the soldier lowers his chin as the music comes to an end. A feeling of anticipation fills the air. With the proclamation, Versus's attention turn to Jana... a quick piercing stare thrown as nonchalantly as it is flowing.

"Which one is the bride?" asks a little winged Empyrean girl of her mother... her attention focused in the completely wrong direction. Small people have trouble following such things, you see. Lifted in the air without a word by her father and placed on his knees, she is quickly shown the dais and the wedding pair. A finger goes into the mouth -- subconsciously so -- as the girl opens her eyes wide. And she thought she had a nice dress...

And now the big moment has come. At least for Jana. This is the part where she's supposed to either prophesize malevolent ills or good fortune. It's also the time when many eyes and ears are briefly turned to her before resettling upon the man and woman of the hour.

The Oracle draws in a long breath, and through half-hooded eyes, she gazes upon the couple. She begins speaking calmly, though loudly enough for all to hear. "The future is but a twisting maze of paths awaiting us as we stand at the crossroads of now. Every choice is a path, shaped by our own will, yet Fate has revealed to me that this couple shall be blessed with the benevolence of the gods."

Jana pauses, gaze lowering so that it would seem her next statements are directed solely to Martinian and Arianna.

Xerise turns her attention to Magnus as those sonorous tones fill the air, listening intently to the words spoken: capturing in her mind the proceedings so that later, she may pull them forth and commit them to parchment's embrace. At the charge given Jana, that self-same attention moves to her -- and she continues to listen, as intently as before.

As Magnus addresses the crowd, the bride uses the opportunity to briefly glance away from her betrothed to skim a brief study over the attendants. But there is so much to concentrate on at the dais, and the warmth and presence of Martinian at her side, and it does not take long until her attention has shifted away towards the proceedings. A breath is unconsciously drawn, heartbeat seeming to thrum against her ears as Arianna waits for the continuation of Jana's words. Still, with love and happiness so great, there is no anxiety in this waiting -- how could she not think her own future is bright?

There's another twitch of the silver-white wings at Cassius's back, more restless than the last. And just what prompted that? Magnus's voice? As the orator speaks, the Augustin Aegian's eyes shoot in his direction, and a new emotion filters across his expression: anger. It is hastily submerged, and Cassius projects calm again, even if his jaw is set in a vaguely stubborn line and some of his mood is spoiled. He forces himself to concentrate on Jana's words, and watches the young Oracle make her pronouncement of the future.

Aristedes leaves the Palatine Hill behind and enters House Jove.

Versus smiles. Just smiles. The words of Jana are pleasing to him, and that's exactly what he wished to hear... at least his proud stance would suggest so. With an air of someone who will sooner try to reach the gods himself than hear one bad prophecy of the Oracle, he turns his eyes back to Arianna. Yes, this marriage will proceed flawlessly for years to come. A marriage of pure Empyrean blood, of pure nobility and in the middle of the City of the Gods. It had better proceed well.

"The long and winding road is bedeviled and plagued, yet hand in hand, I have seen your aged souls, smiling upon those who are your descendants. Your garments are white, unsullied by the taint of scandal and impotency that pollutes the multitude surrounding you." There, Jana pauses, but the observant might notice the brief flicker of hesitation.

"One day, you will find meaning in my words when I say to beware the wolf in sheep's clothing. He would rise against his own blood, and you will be betrayed if you do not take heed." The Oracle's eyes travel across the gathered crowd as she speaks, and she concludes, "The future can be changed; by those with the power and desire to lay their mark upon it."

Kalypso's brow furrows briefly, a glance towards Phrixia, as Phrixia glances back towards Kalypso. Very interesting, that prophecy. But both pairs of blue eyes are quick to return to the dais, to watch the bride and the groom, and the orator and the seer.

There must be a door open somewhere. Or a window. For a breath of a breeze stirs the air, carrying the fragrance of springtime, although in the world below the gleaming, floating city, winter has already descended. Still, it is always green in Civitas Dei, and winter's rages do not reach this place. The breeze is a balm, meant to soothe whatever troubled mood the Oracle's words might produce.

On the periphery of the assembled guests, the Empress watches with that same serene gaze, although the mention of a 'wolf in sheep's clothing' prompts the vaguest upward tilt of one brow.

Eyelids narrow a mere portion, something thoughtful creeping into Xerise's expression at the Oracle's words. An... interesting pronouncement, with the promise of togetherness even through twists and turns. And the wolf? Another moment, and Xerise files the words away, for future mulling over. The wedding itself calls again, and she is not one to deny the need of the moment.

Indeed, eyes among the crowd turn to one another in mild surprise at the prophecy's turn into something more dire. Not only those among the crowd, either. The groom twitches one eyebrow upward. There are rumors that these prophecies are not true, but given to the tellers to read verbatim. Perhaps Martinian's moment of surprise suggests the opposite is the case here. Unwilling to let this halt the ceremony, however, he nods to Jana in thanks and acceptance of her words.

A bare sliver of a line crosses over Arianna's forehead at the Oracle's words, head tilting just slightly to the side to take in the reaction of her husband-to-be as well. His nod seems to bring the reminder of a smile, which the bride quickly assumes and likewise nods to Jana in a gesture of respect and appreciation. In that brief pause that follows before the ceremony continues, the mind lingers on the weight of the words in serenely composed silence.

The Augustin Deus's expression darkens further at this pronouncement from the Oracle, and his frosty gaze narrows upon Jana as if he believes her words to be some fabricated ruse intended to sow discord at his daughter's wedding. Yet again, Cassius's wings flex and resettle against his spine, and his gaze darts over to Arianna and Martinian, resting primarily on the former.

The wings of Versus twitch slightly as the breeze reaches his part of the hall. With lowered brows, the Schola pierces Jana with a predatorial intensity, as if it was her who invented the prophecies, not Fate. In the world of someone whose realities are filled with law and military efficiency, magical visions are both unexplained and hard to comprehend.

Slowly, Versus scans the Jovian guests of the wedding, as if already seeking the "wolf." His black armor seems to reflect his current state of mind, and only a movement from Arianna brings his thoughts back to the present. Future can wait... for now. Raising his head, he anchors his sapphire gaze on his cousin. His body relaxes a little.

Oh! Alcmena nearly faints. A sheep in wolf's clothing. Eyes widen and lips purse together in a doll-like feature. Her mind is wild. But for whom? Ah! Only the Very Good romance scrolls have a storyline like this... a wedding with a mysterious oracle reading. Next there may be a great race through the skies with wildish gryphons, and it will inevitably end with a babe being born. The girl relaxes some, knowing that in all good romance stories, it ends happily. Nevermind that her own sister's marriage ended in horror; after all, that was only Eranthe.

With the reading performed, Magnus once again takes up the mantle of officiator, turning to a small table just off the dais and retrieving a scroll. "It is now asked that those whose signatures are required upon the contract please step forward." He hands the scroll with due ceremony to Jana and moves to take his place as a signer.

The brisk pace pauses at the inside of the garden, Aristedes permitting himself time to catch his breath and survey the events at hand. What had a been purposeful walk now becomes more of a guilty slink, attempting to integrate himself into the crowd of guests without heralding the fact that he is shamefully late. Kalypso is spotted as he draws in closer, and he hastily maneuvers himself over to her side with a courteous nod.

"Who is that woman? Why did she say that?" The little Empyrean girl seems both frightened and intrigued by Jana.

"She is the Oracle," replies her mother in much more hushed tones, "and she can see the future." As her parent's attentions return to the happy couple, the girl keeps watching Jana with those large eyes... finger still in mouth. So much can happen at one wedding.

Slipping his arm free of Olivia's after having acted as her escort here, Cassius starts moving forward through the assembly at Magnus's behest. As the father of the bride, his signature is naturally required.

She knew there would be unpleasant reactions to what she would have to say, yet this seems to disturb Jana very little. Expression now composed, the mask of stoicism is once more disturbed by the twitch of a smile. Taking the contract into her own small hands, she pivots smoothly upon her heel to lead a miniature procession towards an elegantly prepared table.

Draped in cloth bearing the colors of House Jove, it is flanked by two of the House's trusted servants and bears the weight of flowers, an ink well, and a lushly plumed quill. It is in the center that the Oracle Tritonides unfurls the scroll and lays it down, the first to take up the quill in her fingers and sign.

Once finished with her task, Jana steps aside and awaits others to come forward. Eyes roam over the crowd, flitting from face to face, yet upon spotting one individual in particular, she seems to brighten. A flush of pink enters her cheeks before she forces herself to nonchalantly look away to the floor.

Jana did very well -- at least, Kalypso thinks so. So she might be the lone member of the crowd actually smiling towards the Oracle. And then Aristedes arrives, and the smile only flickers briefly, before she smiles up at him, one hand reaching to pat him lightly on the arm as the signatures are attended to. A soft whispered word, and then a quiet introduction to Phrixia -- but it is all very quiet. And very brief.

She remains alone now, does Olivia, now that Cassius has quitted her side to do his duty for Arianna and for Augustus, and she places her hands before her quite primly and properly while watching the events unfold. Her expression is difficult to parse, but the serenity that has become so well-known to her is in place, easily. Something peaceful simply abounds about the joining of two hands and hearts when the match is mutually desired

The reactions of the crowd are visibly mixed at the Oracle's predictions. For many, this is just the routine, and little attention is paid to one simple bad omen, which can -- after all -- be avoided, if the prophecy is correct. The musicians stand silently by the door, their instruments put away for the time being. All the servants have well finished with their duties by now. Those ordered to be in the chamber are now basking in this rather rare of events at their house. Gryphons can be faintly heard from the outside... perhaps some late guests just parked their chariots nearby.

Magnus, already in place, accepts the quill from Jana's hands and sets it to paper with a bold hand, stepping aside and offering the pen next to the Deus Augustin.

Xerise can't help but sneak a glance over at the small child so intrigued by her cousin, and the corner of her mouth twitches for a moment at the girl's reaction. This too, is noted. Someday, perhaps that very same child will be written down for her descendants to see. Only time will tell for that -- and so much else. The hint of movement in the crowd, and another progression is watched. This being Cassius's, to sign the contract. A slight shift of her wings, but nothing more than that. From afar, Olivia watches your butt as you walk. :) Long distance to Olivia: Cassius lol's!

There's just the barest hesitation between the moment that Magnus extends the quill, and the second in which Cassius takes it. The look he gives the other man is level and cool, and his demeanor has regained its usual calm impassivity. He executes a quick tip of his head in acknowledgment to the Jovian before leaning down to scribe his name upon the parchment in his customary flawless script.

Aristedes touches a hand lightly to Kalypso's shoulder as he comfortably settles into the place that he has secured for himself. A thoughtful regard sweeps over the proceedings towards the front, before he turns his focus towards the words spoken at his side. Kalypso and Phrixia are each given a hint of a smile, the latter also met with a slight bow. Taking care to keep his words to a controlled murmur, he speaks quietly with the pair.

A quiet participant in this event, Dea Selene Acesian, who has acted as Arianna's pronuba, steps forward with typical and unmistakable grace to accept her place as the next to sign. She favors Deus Augustin with a smile and bends to touch quill to paper, fingers moving smoothly and then offering up the quill to the next in line.

Versus half-accompanies Cassius to the table, moving by him for most of his trip, but standing aside as the Deus signs the parchment. This gesture is, no doubt, done to uplift the importance of the elder Augustin as the pater familias of the House.

Moving slightly away, to allow Selene and others easy access to the table, the Schola waits for his Deus to finish his official duties. His black uniform is certainly noticeable among other, less military attire at the wedding. His demeanor is more relaxed now, and even nonchalant at times, and a smile plays over his lips as Versus looks at Arianna and accidentally meets her eyes. Poised between duty, family honor and personal joy, the Praetor keeps his disciplined demeanor on, glancing occasionally in the direction of the Empress and her guards.

The Empress and her guards are hardly providing much entertainment, or even fodder for the rumor-mill. Aurora is as composed as before, her raiment suitably Empyrean, her snowy-white wings very much in evidence, folded against her back, and her demeanor poised yet unobtrusive. She is here merely as a representative of Jove, and perhaps to lend a bit more formality to this auspicious event. After all, how many nobles can say that one of the royal couple attended their wedding?

The quill is passed to the next signer, and to the next, and then to the last individual who will sign before the bride and groom themselves.

Phoebus, a close cousin to Martinian's mother Antonia, grasps the quill with a wrinkled, quivering hand, squinting his eyes down at the parchment to find where his name shall be marked.

Arianna, whose visual attentions had been divided between Martinian, Cassius, and Versus, seems to detect this pause in the flow and turns her attention towards the table. Phoebus is flashed a faint smile and the tip of her finger rests on the spot where the name should be written, held there until the barely legible name is scrawled out with care.

The older man pats her cheek indulgently and hands the quill over so that Arianna may add the flowery script of her own name. Another glance finds its way between Versus and Cassius before her head tilts up, smile and quill offered to the man to whom she promises herself on this day.

Once finished with signing the document that makes his daughter's wedding official in the eyes of the law, Cassius had retreated from the table and moved to reclaim his place among the assembled guests. He stands as before, to witness the remainder of the ceremony and watch his daughter pass from his House into her new one, now as a Dea, herself.

Cersei leaves the Palatine Hill behind and enters House Jove.

Finally. There is only so much waiting a man can put up with and remain suitably stoic and proper. Martinian steps forward, not quite eagerly, but certainly ready to get this obstacle out of the way. He accepts the quill, a smile for his bride, and brings it close to the paper. He finds his hand shakes slightly, and so pauses while these tremors ease. If they ease. Eventually, he can wait no longer, and signs the document, shaky hands or no.

And that is all for the contract. Martinian lays the quill down and returns his attention to Jana.

Another brief smile is granted to Aristedes, before silence falls upon Kalypso once more, and she turns back to watch the interactions of those on the dais. Groom looks rather steady as he signs -- that's always a good sign.

Now that the legal aspect of the ceremony is concluded, it is time to commence with the religious. Jana is nearly startled to discover that she again must act, and quiet footsteps take her back once more to her original position upon the dais. Wings rustle ever so briefly, and grey eyes settle upon the face of the Dea Selene Acesius, Pronuba to the bride. Hands slowly upraise, palms turned to the ceiling, as she assumes a posture of one waiting to accept a gift.

Another duty to be performed, Selene offers Arianna a small smile, mute encouragement from one woman to another. After all, it is not so long ago that the Dea was in Arianna's place. Smoothly, she offers up to Jana the ribbon she has been carrying.

Versus accompanies Cassius back, casting a glance at his aunt Olivia who is now in the center of his view. Taking his place among the guests once again, this time closer to Cassius but still at the far side of the dais, the young Augustin folds his wings under the red cape as much as possible, and stands tall and proud one more time. His gladii shift once more at his belt as his body pauses in rest, and the golden eagle hanging from his neck reflects the light of the waning day, casting a playful reflection on the ceiling.

Taking the ribbon, Jana runs its long, silky length through nimble fingers. Inclining her head forward so that her chin nearly brushes against her breastbone, she shuffles forth a few paces in order to close whatever distance remains between the wedding couple and her. Again, she smiles, the shyest twitch of pale lips evident before she issues a breathy whisper to the pair, "Please, extend your hands."

Xerise watches with the air of one rapt with the entire proceedings. Such as this comes so rarely, and is so blessed an event... Xerise counts herself lucky to be among the watchers. And so, therefore, she continues to do just that. The contract is signed, the ribbon handed over. Soon -- too soon, perhaps -- it will all be over and things forever changed.

Aristedes turns his attention towards the ceremony now that the greetings and introductions are out of the way, hands folding comfortably at his back in his rigid pose. There seems almost a furtive intensity to his gaze, and little of the sentiment or emotion to be found here on this day has managed to worm its way into his stoic features.

Were he the father, he might have the right to look proud. And were he the brother, he might have the right to look smug. But as kinsman and cousin, Magnus simply looks proper, unwilling to take away for even an instant from the focus upon Martinian and Arianna. His eyes are appropriately focused upon the pair as they gather near to be joined.

Olivia senses: Cassius seems tense, and small wonder. He is watching his firstborn child pass irrevocably into adulthood and out of his House. The fact that Magnus plays a large part in this ceremony is doubtless a factor, as well.

"What are they signing?" asks the little girl, this time of her father.

"The scroll. To make the marriage official," replies he. Aren't parents just infinitely patient?

"Oh..." The little winged creature thinks hard of the significance of any need for such, "...can I sign too?"

"After the wedding," the father ends the discourse.

Olivia casts a demure glance in Cassius' direction as he returns, of course, but that is all; through a sheen of silvery gold lashes she observes Martinian's joy, Arianna's grace, the ceremony's formal sweetness. The weight of Versus's gaze is briefly felt, and for an instant, she diverts her focus toward him, offering a simple, serene smile, before turning away once again. This is the more tender moment of the day, and its sentimentality is certain to bring tears to the eyes of many an onlooker.

Alcmena is beginning to be annoyed. The flowers are giving her a headache, they smell so wonderfully sweet, and the weight of them is getting to her ladylike arms. Yet with all of this, she is the proper young lady, a smile painted on her lips, and as much of a vacant look that she can muster under the glorious circumstances. Her one thought: 'Now I have the room all to myself.'

Martinian slowly draws in his breath, calming nerves he hadn't even realized he had until this day. It takes a careful and watchful eye to notice, but as the Deus extends his hand toward Jana, it does tremble. He can be seen swallowing and directing a stern gaze at his hand as though silently commanding it to behave. He's still new at this 'commanding' thing, obviously.

She'd been nibbling at the edge of her lower lip again, but not quite realizing it. As Jana prompts the bride and groom for their hands, Arianna's cheeks assume a measure of color that carry them to a roseate shade beyond quiet exuberation. Fingers uncurl from her palm and the hand is offered with only the lightest of flutters, rather like a bird's wings instinctively twitching at a current of air. The edges of her mouth remaining pleasantly upturned, her gaze climbs up towards the man at her side in some measure of quiet reassurance. Both supplying and receiving.

Gently taking the bridegroom's hand first, Jana lays it atop the bride's. The ribbon dangling from her fingers is stretched taut, and its lengths are wrapped about the couple's hands.

The Oracle does not look up from her task, her brow furrowing with the frown of one who speaks as if she were about to pronounce a grave and somber sentencing upon a convicted man. And perhaps, in a way, she is. So might some of the more dour-faced individuals in the crowd believe.

"Fate has decreed that your destinies be intertwined, and so now do I bind your hands for all to see. From this day forth you are no longer two, but one." Jana pauses in her words, giving careful attention to the bow she ties to seal their hands together. Once completed, she steps back to announce, "What Fate has now joined, let no one sunder."

As the ribbon is tied, Magnus glances around but once, eyes searching out a particular visage and glossing over all others in the gathering. Whether he sees who he seeks or not, his eyes return promptly to the pair and remain there.

At these familiar words, Selene steps forward to complete her final duty, offering a small loaf of bread to the happy couple. Perhaps it is not entirely proper to do, but as she does this, she touches her lips to cheeks, first Arianna's and then Martinian's.

Cassius's pale blue eyes settle on his new son-in-law, and his expression could not precisely be called benevolent. He takes note of the trembling of Martinian's hand as it is extended, and if there is any sympathy in him -- after all, he had to go through this very same ceremony twice, and it never gets easier -- he does not display it. He watches while his daughter's hand is bound to her husband's, and once again, his wings fidget at his back. The pride and joy that should be on his face are difficult to see; mostly, he looks stern. What a father-in-law Martinian's just acquired.

Versus smiles once again. Even in this gesture, he remains stern and curt, but some form of a more passionate being is certainly hiding under his dark armor. The smile is, however, genuine... and as the marriage of two into one is formally announced, the young Augustin casts his eyes on Martinian. With the gaze of someone who has witnessed much in the military and at the side of the Emperor, the soldier silently muses over the new groom to his cousin. Will he be a good one? Only time will tell. Lifting his head slightly, the Schola pauses in a statuesque silence, and does not move.

Another face in a crowd full of them. It is fortunate that there are so many others who are better able to draw attention than he; so many who are more important and impressive. Such people will hold the crowd's attention, leaving fewer to remark upon his lack of wings, and this Agenorides will certainly not object to. Indeed, this handicap he scarce notices anymore when his thoughts are distracted, so he has peace enough to absorb what is going on and the atmosphere of the celebration. Aye, it is a fine day, even if the undercurrents abound.

Tears paint Olivia's cheeks in silver; it is a sudden demonstration of sentimentality from one who is so even-keeled that a shipwright might do well to observe her habits in the process of designing a better boat. Hands clasp together, palms against one another, while her forefingers are pressed to her lips to disguise in part the savagely sweet expression assimilating her countenance. Perhaps she wonders if she shall have another day such as this, perhaps she is reliving her own wedding day so long past to a husband two years' dead, but her tears, at least, are not the only ones in the assemblage.

A bright smile from Kalypso, as her hands lift -- clapping together after a brief silence following Jana's last words.

Phrixia joins her, as well as adding a quiet 'Huzzah.' Perhaps they've already had a bit of something to drink.

"Are they now married?" the little Empyrean girl keeps her insatiable streak of questions coming, as her age gives her privilege to.

"Yes..." replies her mother through tears... she, too, felt the beauty of this occasion on her own level.

"So when do they get to kiss?" asks the girl, giggling in anticipation.

Xerise's eyes shine suspiciously bright, silver pools welling in sudden appreciation for this, the most beautiful moment. If the Schola has passion in his being, the scholar has a deep romantic streak kept hidden from the public's view. She swallows as she attempts to keep herself from blubbing like a fool -- and mostly succeeds. One tear escapes, and trails unbidden down her cheek even as she schools her expression back into implacability.

Alcmena lines up after the rest of the family. When she does reach the newly-wedded couple, she all but thrusts the flower bower into their arms with a delighted giggle. "You are sooo beautiful, Arianna. Oh! Hee, Dea Arianna." One relieved hand raises to her lips as she twitters. "And you, so handsome. I can only hope that one day I too will be in such a happy position as yours." She almost means it, Gods bless her.

Like a cadence of a great climax, the crowd explodes in hushed whispers of joy at the declaration of the union. Shouts of congratulations fill the air briefly, as the Augustin and Jovian guests celebrate this unique day that brings their families closer together. The waft of sweet flowers permeates in the air, mingling with the perfume of the ladies, the crisp air of the evening city and the waft of the fall.

Though she had entered fashionably late, Cersei didn't miss the ribbon and her relief for this can be seen quite plainly in her green eyes. Quiet as a mouse, this familiar yet metamorphosized cousin found an unintruding place to watch and revel. Carefully, she follows the crowd in all its silences and exclamations. One mustn't stick out like a sore thumb after all, especially if one's punctuality is lacking.

Selene's quick gesture of affection is met with a broadening of Arianna's mouth, beyond what could seem capable. The Deas of Jove and Acesius seem an unlikely pair of companions, given the tension between their respective Houses, but the strength of fondness that meets the Pronuba could not possibly be feigned.

The bread is taken in Martinian's and Arianna's free hands and tugged at until it's broken apart. The portion that Arianna had ended up with is tucked into her mouth, still being chewed at as Alcmena reaches the pair. It takes a moment until she thickly swallows, breath fanning out around delighted laughter as she fumbles and collects the proffered bower of flowers.

"Thank you, dear Cousin. And what lovely flowers you have given us," Arianna praises the younger girl warmly, glancing up to Martinian to see when he has finished his piece of bread. Two words are mouthed in his direction, chased by a quick wink.

Octavian leaves the Palatine Hill behind and enters House Jove.

There could be tension, yes, between Jove and Acesius, and there likely will remain tension even after this day; Selene's gesture toward Martinian is something between lifetime friends and cousins. Right now, for this one brief, brief moment, there are no Houses.

Martinian smiles, and takes his half of the bread and takes a bite. The congratulations are not immediately heard, but before long, even wonder and relief and countless other emotions without names take their place behind the necessity of giving thanks. Arianna's words are caught, and he steps forward to kiss his bride -- no, wife, now. There is joy in that gesture, pride and happiness in equal measures as well. And now, there are guests to be thanked and greeted.

Magnus claps Martinian briefly on the shoulder, showing the first emotion of the evening in granting the man a heartfelt grin. He then turns to follow the pair out and into the gathering beyond.

Cassius senses: Olivia takes your arm, very gently, to remind you of your duty to go forward to greet the couple...to be gracious. She is here with you, supportingly.

Cassius lifts his hands to clap, as others have done, but his expression is not one of rejoicing. And his brows furrow as he witnesses Arianna's lighthearted laughter. When was the last time he saw her laugh like that? He does not miss the wink she sends Martinian, either, and it prompts a deeper furrow. It must not be easy for any father to watch his 'little girl' grow up, and Cassius is no exception. He does not approach the newly-married couple immediately, preferring to remain among the guests and watch from a safer vantage.

The light of the hall flickers unevenly as the evening darkness claims Civitas Dei. In the torchlight, the City of the Gods is a breathtaking place... so much different from the day. Here in the house of the Jove family, the realities of the world's greatest city can be felt in the crisp air from the outside. But the darkness brings another quality to the occasion... the romantic one, as nothing really feels as perfect as the stars of Aether twinkling their distant charms through the light of the torches.

This new mood settles over the crowd, and even the servants cannot help but smile, all ready for the extravagant festivity that is to follow the wedding...

FIN  

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