World of Warcraft®

If there was one thing Irilin could count on, it was that Trenetir would deliver, even if he hated it.

Irilin hadn't meant for the invitations to be a big issue. In fact, they probably weren't, but he still couldn't help feeling a little guilty. He could have just said that they were lovely; he couldn't see them at the moment, but still. If his eyes were working, perhaps his nose wouldn't have reacted quite as much.

There's nothing wrong with lavender and chamomille, he kept saying to himself. And Trenetir was trying, which was more than most would ask.

Nevertheless, Dellis brought before him the new invitations which Trenetir had ordered. Whether the rush was for Irilin's sake, or just for another opportunity to pester Koudo, Irilin didn't know, but he was sure it involved a lot of threatening to get it done. He'd have to talk to Trenetir about that. Silvermoon wasn't rebuilt in a day, after all.

Now, they were ready to go. Someone from the AAMS would likely be around to pick them up, sooner or later. Irilin let out a short, silent laugh; it would likely be later-closer-to-never if Koudo had her way.

Despite the happiness, the thought that the wedding was finally ready to happen, one question still pecked violently at the back of Irilin's mind: Would anyone come?

The estate was named Shindu'alah for the deep evening hours when the setting sun carved a scarlet borealis through the turqouise ocean, scattering shimmering patterns of light through the submerge mansion's hallways. It had been erected deep in Vashj'ir, to his specifications. He had scoured his coffers, doubling the necessary enchantments that would bear the crushing weight of the ocean's roiling deep. His private office, secure by the northwest wing, boasted a barren panel-less wall where the water hung upon nothing. It bubbled soothingly, as the fires from the sky danced and played out over the black marble of his tile floor. A school of curious mantas turned effortless spirals. As Liore Bloodwing stood in his silks and linens, a glass of red in his hand, he frowned.

This was built to be a place of repose and rest. A tranquil nest between breaths, to prepare for the journies ahead.

But he found no beauty in the shimmering ocean lights. No joy in the dolphins who waltzed through the corals. No peace within himself.

He'd been asked to be a friend. He'd been asked to be a voice, a witness. He'd been asked to be party to something that was beautiful, treasured.

Liore had retreated to Shindu'alah in the hopes of finding inspiration for the words he would have to speak and discovered instead that he might lack the conviction to speak them. He would not be satisfied to play his role in this union until he knew with no room for doubt that-

A slender fingertip pressed a tastefully concealed button. A minute later, a well-tailored Worgen lumbered in the doorway, oozing professionalism and detachment. Brendan Kirche had been head of security for four years now, presiding over other estates until the undersea mansion had been completed. Liore valued him for his attention to detail, and keen nose for potential security (no pun intended) leaks.

"Lord?"

"I will be departing within the hour; I intend to return late."

"We will keep the portals active until then, Ser."

"Very good, Kirche."

"Shall we keep you a plate, Ser? Verinnica will be serving her basted scallops tonight." The worgen's moon-silver eyes traced the passage of a whale, as it arced lazily in the distance.

Liore rumbled distractedly, peering into his wine. Brendan Kirche half-bowed and left him to his ruminations. He stalked to the master bedroom, selecting a casual suit.

I've got to know, Moradinel. Surely you expected I would have to know, first.

((If any characters out there have thoughts on the impending wedding, I'd love for people to share them here. I'm just curious to see what people are thinking, and how much room Irilin should have for the audience on his side of the aisle...))

Weddings.

She hated them.

Kezrin sat in the back corner of the tavern, picking idly at the plate of food and avoiding eye contact with anyone. She felt a pang of guilt for leaving Koudo to deal with picking up the invitations, but she couldn't deal with it. Not any more. She'd been unable to sleep after the last Lounge night.

Even now, with the curse long gone, the thought of weddings and marriage and insufferable grooms gave Kezrin a headache. Hours spent picking flowers, deciding menus, dress fittings, carefully orchestrating guest lists for maximum social posturing... all for what? It was the pinnacle of social showmanship and one-upping.

It wasn't about love. It couldn't be about love, not with him involved. Trenetir Moradinel was exactly the same as Nozzel Waxworth had been: a smooth talking, outwardly gracious lying piece of scum who was only out for himself. She didn't know how he benefited from Irilin, but she was sure there was a reason.

She didn't blame other people for not seeing it. At least Koudo had finally learned the truth, even if it had broken her heart. Kezrin hadn't known about Irilin until it was too late, and then, what was she to tell him without breaking confidentiality? Or causing trouble for the company?

Perhaps Irilin simply couldn't leave him. She didn't know if he had any family, or if Moradinel held any threats against him, but there was the complication of his recent injuries. He didn't have the option of just packing a bag and starting anew somewhere.

The plate was pushed away, half eaten. Irilin's life was about to be ruined, but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't stand up to Moradinel, but nor could she tolerate being told what to do and having to pretend to be happy for someone. So she left.

It was much better to hide in her corner and try not to think about weddings.

Coward.

The wedding had been the first thing on her mind when she awoke that morning; she had never been to a wedding. Let alone the wedding of someone she would rather see bleeding than smiling. Koudo had managed to keep the invitation from ‘falling’ into a mud puddle, probably had something to do with the Elf she had gotten the invitations from.

The rogue looked at the list on the invitees, it was a very long list…almost too long. She knew that most of her Shield Bearers would need to find a way to scrounge up some white and gold to help with the deliveries. Telirra idly wondered if all the invites would get delivered on time, she figured they would have to go through some magical means of delivery, if That Awful Elf made a sudden stipulation that all the invites be hand delivered...she wouldn’t worry about it. As long as she didn’t mention it to anyone it wouldn’t become an issue.

He must be mad…or under a spell. That was the only reasonable explanation for Irillin to actually want to go through with all of this. Koudo had been an exception, she had heard enough to figure that Trenetir had been an excellent liar and managed to trick Koudo into…whatever it was that had happened between the two of them. The poet had seemed sane enough the few times she had seen him but she knew there were powerful spells that could control the emotions of people.

There was no way she was attending, unless Brae told her she needed too. Telirra had already started to come up with excuses to avoid the whole thing, but she knew that if her Manager requested it of her, she would attend. IF she had to go…I’m not wearing a dress. The idea of having to wear formal clothing disturbed her almost as much as the actual Wedding.

Maybe if I find a way to get hurt…She shook her head, she knew too many people would be upset with her if that happened. One specifically would be unreasonably upset, she just had to pray that no one would make her go.

((NOTE: Telirra is going, she just doesn’t realize it yet))