Participants:
with cameo appearances by bodyguards, children, Bolivar, Isa, and Shaw
| Scene Title | Operation Lohengrin |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The mission: Kidnap immediate family, get married before a) another black hole opens, b) the world blows up, or c) we're invaded by armies from other timelines. Mischief Managed. |
| Date | August 6, 2019 |
Deep blue tropical waters froth gently up onto moon-kissed white sand beaches surrounded by lush, dark forest. It's not a huge group of people standing there, and this is not the first time this cove has seen such an event. It is, perhaps, more rare to see it happen this way — with the moon and stars providing most of the light while torches of firelight provide the rest.
Three children, around 8 years old and wiggling with excitement, cluster at the front near the dark-skinned officiant of the short ceremony. The tall brown-haired groom is rarely seen in anything other than black suits, BDUs, or jeans, but this evening's celebration called for bare feet and lighter colors — a white linen shirt spilling down to brush over the waist of khaki shorts. The blonde standing across from him carries a small nosegay of tropical blossoms and wears a simple ice-blue sundress that looks silver in the moonlight. Her father got to walk her up the aisle, and a special twist in the universe allowed both of their mothers to be present.
Despite the casual dress and laughter among those in the group, there's a kind of gravity to the few moments when vows and rings are exchanged. Moments of stillness where his hand cradles the side of her neck and her fingertips brush his face. A moment, perhaps, where the world might seem to some to hold its breath.
And then the whooping begins.
August 8, 2019
Private Beach Party, Oceanside
U.S. Virgin Islands
“Alright, alright, what’re you all looking at, then,” Richard calls back to the cheering with a grin, shaking his head before looking back to Elisabeth with a warm expression, eyes bright with the emotion of the moment. His hand catches hers, and he tugs her towards the rest of the gathering as the formal portion of the ceremony breaks up, “The food’s way more interesting than us up here, you know!”
The beachside bar is set up with tables of catered finger foods for the guests, a large bonfire burns out on the sand. Music plays from speakers wired to a small stereo system behind the bar. There are some places in the world that haven't been ravaged by the past years, and this small tropical island in the Caribbean is one of those oases. They only have it for today and tomorrow, but for this night there is no one else on this stretch of paradise.
Alia had shown up to the summons flanked by two SPOTs, no longer present, carrying her bugout backpack, still over her shoulder, wearing an old favorite outfit: jean shorts, a white t-shirt, a red vest, and a red baseball cap with a white front, with the words “Fatal Fury” emblazoned across them. Of this, most is still with her. Geeky and relaxed, and amused.
“Depends who you ask.” Alia retorts to Richard and Liz. “Food we can see any day. You two like this? _priceless_.” That, and she’s still impressed at the level of shit that the pair likely had to go through to not leave any hints for her to know this was coming!
Which is also probably why she’s on the invite list: She’d have been using satellite coverage to find them otherwise!
While Kaylee was family, she had hung back with Bob and watched this from his side. There was a smile on her face, a cheer for her brother and his bride. Overall the telepath was happy, it was a moment she had hoped her brother would get…but once the ceremony was over… she’s suddenly not there.
Bob straightens a bit when he realizes, glancing around him until he sees her skirting the little gathering. An offered glass of champagne is taken, but not sipped. That alone puts a crease between his brows, but he doesn’t follow. Instead he turns back to his job, directing
Kaylee sinks back just outside of the light of the celebration area; putting distance between her and the group of loud excited minds. The light flowing yellow floral dress, ghostly in the shadows of the trees.
The telepath’s destination was the beach, away from the crowd, away from the cheers, just… away for a few.
Cassandra, like Alia, is never without her backpack of things. Being unprepared was something that caused issues, even when you didn’t foresee them coming. It wasn’t until she was actually at RayTech and on the plane going to some unknown destination - her backpack in tow - that she started to relax, and when she found out the reason for this impromptu trip? Well, it was all she could do to not squeal with glee at the destination. Sure, she didn’t get to be a bridesmaid, but Richard didn’t have a horde of groomsmen either, so it’s something she’d definitely let pass unprotested. Elisabeth and Richard, finally married.
Dressed in a comfortable, flowing, short-sleeved dress - with pockets! - in green with matching slip-on sandals that, more often than not, were slipped off, Cassandra was thankful that they were allowed a shopping trip before being thrust into the wedding proper. Jeans and a t-shirt printed with a cartoon hermit crab yelling “Shell Yeah, Beaches!” might have actually been appropriate in this moment, but the good church-going girl in her, from the darkest recesses where she’d been stuffed, demanded that she dress properly for the occasion. “I don’t know how you two managed to keep this secret from everyone. I mean, even Aurora didn’t say word one!” Cassandra says to the pair, reaching out to touch Elisabeth on her shoulder with one hand, playfully patting Richard on the shoulder with the other before stepping back. “Did you threaten to take away her colors or something?”
Squeezing the hand that has hold of hers, Elisabeth laughs. If in the minutes before the ceremony she was nervous (She was. Scared to death. Jared teased her that she could run, he'd cover for her.), it doesn't show now. As they walk across the sand amid their family and friends, she looks relaxed. "Easy," she replies to Cassandra, "we just didn't tell her." The grin she shoots is cheeky. "We literally told no one except the pilot and he didn't even file a flight plan until just before we took off cuz," her voice rises, laughter still threading through it, "Alia's always so nosy!"
The father of the bride walks a little more slowly toward the bar across the sand, allowing the gaggle of guests to outpace him. The sand is soft between his toes but it's hard on his knee and he takes his time, watching Harmony and the bodyguard-nanny wrangle all the children to their own little beach picnic near the bonfire. Marshmallows trump standing around with grown-ups any day.
Having moved apart from the congregation of friends and family shortly after the vows, two impossible parents found one-another at the beachside bar. Michelle Cranston by any stretch of the law is otherwise Michelle Cardinal, though how many of the ceremony-goers know the truth even she isn’t certain of. There’s already a glass of white wine in her hand, sandy blonde hair streaked with gray tied back from her face and the wind in what may be the only time she’s dressed up in the last thirty years. But beside her, Carina Cranston — also blonde, though hiding her gray behind hair dye — looks on at Michelle’s side with furrowed brows and a cigarette in one hand. She, too, is something of a secret in plain sight. Carina Harrison should be dead, and yet, life is an impossibility.
“I picked it first,” Carina says with a flinty voice, angling a side-eyed look to Michelle who is not going to have this fucking argument again.
“Well it’s my last name now so,” Michelle rolls her eyes and downs a gulp of her wine, “maybe we can just tell our children’s family that it’s a coincidence. Or, given how many secret nieces people seem to have maybe it’s just inevitable that there’s an inbred wedding.” That much Michelle says with a crooked smile, and Carina can’t help but laugh and shake her head.
“Yeah, maybe.” Carina replies in response, turning her attention back to the bride and groom. “They look happy, don’t they?”
Michelle makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “I did on my wedding day too…” doesn’t quite have the lightness she was hoping it would before she said it. Carina offers Michelle an askance look, then takes a slow drag off of her cigarette.
“Me too,” Carina echoes, and her attention drifts off to Jared Harrison’s silhouette against the moonlight.
“I now pronounce you Secretive Little Rich Bitch and Lovely Wife.” Raquelle drawls as he saunters up to the couple, there has been a couple of wardrobe changes as his own girls are over → yonder having a good time. His own fiancé somewhere around as well. He was wearing a full suit but now he just has the dark jeans, polished jeans, dark purple and black button down shirt left mostly unbuttoned and the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up. Tattoos peeking out, Hair has recently been more of a brown and auburn hue, tousled stylishly and make-up on point as he opens his arms for his hugs.
“Lizzie Badass you look beautiful. Richie Rich, I’m only forgiving you for not giving me time to prepare and get the chance to sing at your goddamn wedding because you helped me bring family back together.” He tsks softly. “So I won’t whoop your ass in front of company and you might only find half a dick shaved in your next touch up.”
It has been a crazy few weeks filled with so much and just for now Raquelle is taking a break, hoping his mother and father are taking the time they need to rebond and resisting the urge to feel like he needs to make a phone call or do some double checking. “Also I haven’t had sex on the beach for years so after ya’ll clear out…gonna get some pina coladas, hope it rains and go for a walk with my sugar daddy.”
Kaylee isn't the only one who's wandered away from the proceedings, though in Emily's case, she's wandered closer to the shore rather than further down it. Her sandals are held by their straps, dangling by her side while the ocean breeze tosses the sheer fabric outerlayer of the gown she wears. She works her toes deeper into the warm sand, eyes on the horizon while the music from the festivities plays at her back.
She's got to say, this view certainly makes up for how they were all whisked out here without warning. "As far as kidnappings go, this could have gone worse," she murmurs to that effect, only the light of the moon catching in her eyes at this distance from the firelight. "I never… not in my whole life did I ever think I'd see the ocean. Not like this."
After taking in a steadying breath, the young woman lets out a thin sigh after, letting the sand-covered soles of her sandals bounce against her thigh. "Though would it have killed them to give people the chance to bring a gift?" she asks in a mutter, looking over her shoulder back into the light, seeing the kids with their smores and fire pit at a distance as much as the bar and its congregation lining up at the different kind of altar it provides. Despite herself, she finds herself wearing a small smile.
“I think having close friends and family here’s the gift they really wanted.” Devon's voice is quiet, but enough to carry over the hush of the ocean. It’s the first thing he's said since following Emily from the party, having wanted to give her the opportunity for some uninterrupted reflection and space to simply be. But he's remained not too far away, a presence for her while he watches the festivities from the sand. He can catch up to the excitement later, perhaps.
Until now that he's spoken, he takes a step forward. His head turns to look at the reception, watching the firelight cast shadows, illuminate the faces both comfortingly familiar and intriguingly not.
“I'm sure this was set up ahead of time,” he continues after a beat. After all, that's a whole lot of people suddenly disappearing on a planned flight. He smiles, and turns back to Emily. “I think momentary panic they inflicted until they confessed everything turned out to be worth it.”
Magnes wasn't quite prepared for what was going down, wearing a black t-shirt with a profile of Nebula from Marvel on the front, some blue jeans, and his weird laceless future boots. He greets most of the people he immediately needs to, like Richard, Elisabeth, etc, though he quickly gets deep into his head about weddings.
He flies over a bit closer to the beach himself, not too far from Emily and Devon, staring out over the ocean. They can likely feel a bit of heaviness that comes a little from his direction, but it eases when he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
Warren walks up from behind Michelle, wearing a purple Willy Wonka style suit as he stares at her while eating from a cheese plate. He very blatantly examines her face while staring right next to her, calculating. "If you're so smart then how do you lift a rock that's impossible to lift with a machine that can lift anything???"
Fel’s there, in a white camp shirt and plain dark pants. As casual as he can bring himself to be at a wedding, even a wedding like this. He comes up to give Liz the ritual three cheek kisses, shake hands with Richard and congratulate them both warmly. A little sphinxish - this is way, way, way more people than he’s dealt with en masse since before the war, and it’s a bit much.
Clearly, what he needs is a drink, but he hasn’t gotten one yet. Probably several drinks, honestly.
“If it’s impossible to lift,” Michelle says over her shoulder to Warren, eyes halfway lidded and tension visible at her jawline, “you’re not using a big enough lever.” She tips back her glass and downs the back half of her drink and sets it down with a sturdy clink on the bartop, then slides off of her stool barefoot into the sand. Carina watches the exchange, looking between Michelle and Warren and not wanting to give up her stool enough to follow Michelle away from the bar and away from Warren.
Abandoned by Michelle, Carina turns a look over at Warren and shakes out a cigarette from a pack she didn’t have a moment ago, offering it over to him. “You sound like you could use one, sweetie,” she says with a crooked smile.
Michelle, in her avoidance of getting into a conversation with Warren and ruining her son’s wedding, marches across the sand and winds up over by Kaylee. It isn’t an intentional proximity, and truth be told she doesn’t even quite recognize Richard’s adoptive sister as she fumbles around at pockets and comes up empty handed. Michelle fires a look back to Carina and then curls her hands into small, angry fists. “She pick-pocketed my— ” fucking cigarettes is internally loud enough for Kaylee to hear at the end. What she chooses not to say aloud.
Lips pressed together into a thin, mad line, Michelle closes her eyes and turns to face the water. I will not punch her. I will not punch her on my son’s wedding day. I will not punch that bleach-blonde pirate on my son’s wedding day.
Jared glances toward the two blonde women at the bar. His gaze takes in the body language between them and he sighs internally. They squabble as viciously as he's ever seen two women go at it. The one time he mentioned they could call themselves former sisters-in-law, he got glares from both. So he shut up quick, fast, and in a hurry. She might not be the same Carina he buried — not by a long shot — but damn if she couldn't shut him down with a look just like always. Still… as long as she still looks at him like that, with that wistful kind of confusion, he has hope. His hand naturally settles at the small of Carina's back just as Michelle stalks off, and he motions to the bartender for a drink. "Warren," he chides mildly, "This isn't the time or place." Over the years, he's often been a quiet voice of amelioration for the younger man's less-than-stellar understanding (or give-a-damn) of societal norms.
Emily only shakes her head to Devon’s optimism. “I don’t know— between thinking they had bad news, and then realizing what was going on and worrying I didn’t have enough time to let anyone know…” The security personnel assigned to sheepherding had been rather pushy after all. She glances sidelong at Devon skeptically, even as she slides her hand into his, fingers lacing. “I’m just glad they didn’t go full black ops shenanigans or whatever. Julie would have literally murdered me if I disappeared again without a trace, and Teo would have noticed right away.”
She also texted her father to keep him from potentially worrying, too, but she keeps that to herself.
Realizing a number of the party has drifted toward the shore, now Emily drifts back to the light instead, careful to avoid looking in the direction of Magnes Varlane and the heaviness that surrounds him. She has nothing she could possibly say, she feels, regardless of how true that might be. The music carrying across the beach makes it easier to drown out her own thoughts, especially as they walk past the setup of them.
The noise allows her to lean closer to Devon, hand on his shoulder. “Go tell them congrats,” she urges him with a small, forced smile, nodding in Elisabeth’s direction. “I’m right behind you.”
There is a barely stifled chuckle from Kaylee’s direction, just loud enough to pull the attention of the older lady. Seated on the sand with knees bent to allow toes to bury in the sand, the telepath isn’t even looking at Richard’s mother. Her focus is on the fluted glass in her hands, turning it slowly, watching the way the moonlight catches the liquid inside. Her light cover up tossed on the sand next to her leaves scarring exposed… she wasn't expecting someone to show up near her portion of sand.
“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Kaylee motions to her head, lazily. “You are projecting a little loudly.” Not that she expects to be recognized, the telepath had possibly been avoiding her.
Finally, the young blonde looks up and over at Michelle, the smile lit by the pale moonlight is apologetic. At least in the dark, the redness ringing her eyes isn’t visible.“I can't help with the cigarettes, but,” Kaylee holds up the untouched flute of alcohol. “You need this more than me, I think” the telepath’s nose wrinkles and she adds, “I can’t drink it anyhow, nights like tonight I miss it..” The offering comes with understanding and pity for the older woman’s situation.
Looking a little further over her shoulder towards the Wedding, Kaylee adds, “Oh.. And sorry about my brother, Warren. He’s crazy, but he means well.”
“Does he?” Michelle wonders aloud in a soft voice, taking the drink offered by Kaylee and inspecting it with furrowed brows. “I suppose it’s possible,” she concedes, tipping the drink back and taking a swallow as she watches the waves come in. “I suppose it’s possible that Oppenheimer meant well too…” she lowers the glass, glancing back to Kaylee. “I’m just not sure how the Japanese feel about that, in contrast.”
Elisabeth reaches out and hugs Raquelle tightly. "We'll have a reception at home, and you can sing for us. Even this is kind of more people than we intended." She hadn't really realized how big their immediate family is — their parents, their children, his siblings and her pseudo-siblings. "But it's as small as we could get it without fear of death. At least now I won't worry about the world ending or Hiro teleporting in or portals swallowing one of us before we could do it." Paranoid much? Yeah… kinda.
She grins with a wicked twinkle. "I have to admit, though, I did momentarily fear! I haven't heard my father use my middle name in ages!" The battle-weary angel has been on the back of her shoulder for years, still brilliant in all her tattered glory thanks to Xiulan, but the cosmos-riddled black raven that now balances it out from the other shoulder blade took the older man by surprise and he'd sort of barked out her full name in startlement.
The soft kisses from Felix are returned, but she doesn't try to keep him in the middle of things. She knows it's too hard for him to deal with this many people at once.
The clandestine methodology of this whole celebration has Shaw perplexed and struck speechless. That's not unusual for him in his normally quiet nature, but those who know him better could tell the difference between joyful wide-eyed gazes, curious studying stares in silence, and at present, anxious attempts to keep track of all the activities of familiar and unfamiliar faces.
In other words, Shaw is overwhelmed. And happy for the bride and groom. Even if he doesn't actualize it into an external expression yet. Ever since the plane ride (only the third time he's ever been up in a flying tin can) he's been practically vibrating with internal turbulence. It's his wife, Isa, by his side the whole trip that's been keeping him steady. With the pyrokinetic being the emotional support companion beside him, he's behaved. The only things he's stolen are glances, sips of drinks, and only one plate of the finger food set out by the caterers.
Of which Isa takes another finger food and munches as she makes her way around the room with her hot af hubby on her arm. She's hot af too in the literal sense but this is an island right? And this is a celebration, right?! Why did Isabelle have five bottles of the WNK Moonshine she her family brew together handy to drag with her on a plane to a secret wedding and now promote their brand while forcing everyone to indulge?
Who's to say but she did and the moonshine is here.
Five bottles, four lucky tables. With the one labeled… Mango Death sits at the bar. After some pressed smiles and raising the temp a little the bartender agreed to serve it. The pyrokinetic is in a good mood. Isa's been smiling a lot more lately, often going on about "The Girls". A group of women who are some sort of charity in Phoenix Heights. Whatever they're doing is helping.
There has been note of Shahid's reaction to the day's events but it was for this reason they decided to not do the large wedding or at least Isa was in agreeance that they just needed each other to say those words. Enact that lifelong bond, or cement it. A simple dark red dress, lots of skin showing is worn. Her heels off and carried between her fingers along with the final bottle of WNK, the OG flavor. Lemon Death.
"Have a sip babe," offering him the bottle. "You know they call this place.. the Virgin Islands." Staring him directly in the eyes with a raised brow. The next time anyone looks around, they're gone.
Alia is near enough to watch the metaphorical explosions from the Bar, and far enough away to know better then getting involved in that. Instead, she finds a table, and from inside her bag pulls out… an ultralight notebook computer, which she turns on and, in a few moments, has a few digital paintings of various moments since the wedding started, started. Facial expressions captured in detail, though exact positioning might be a little off to reality.
It keeps her busy and from trying stupid things. Like drunken surfing. Or Drunking websurfing. Or picking a fight with Warren -again-. And it keeps her from crowding others.
“Hey,” Richard laughs, offering a one-armed embrace to Raquelle, “You can still sing. There’s still a microphone up there where the good Father was, you could steal it, I wouldn’t stop you.” A warm return of Felix’s thanks, offering his metamour an easy nod of understanding at the overwhelmed state of the man.
He looks around the beach, at their friends and family, then back to Elisabeth with a wry smile, “Who’d’ve thought we’d ever actually get here?”
Magnes stares over at Emily. When he notices her urging Devon somewhere, and takes note of her, he suddenly very casually leaps across the sand, before gently landing next to her. "Hey. I'm sorry for how I was when we met. That… isn't me, I was just going through a lot. I don't think I really know your relationship to Elisabeth and Richard?"
"She's technically not wrong but I don't know, I bet I can make a puzzle she can't solve!" Warren insists, before staring down at Carina's cigarette and taking it. He holds it up, notably not using his ability to analyze it, he's been better about that. Then from the back of his blazer, a small chromium capuchin robot crawls up to his head and takes the cigarette, holding it back to Carina. "Judgement Security Systems Activated: Warren is not allowed to smoke."
"I can't say no to Robobo! But it's okay, we have fancy cheeses. You know they say that cheese and cocaine are exactly the same?" he casually states to Carina while taking a small nibble of some dil cheese. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Elisabeth?" He pauses, staring down at the monkey for a moment. "Am I forgetting something?"
Robobo stares up at Warren, then looks to Carina. "Log Check. Recording playback:" to which Warren's voice plays from Robobo's mouth. "Her identity is top secret, don't even remind me if I forget!"
Warren stares down at the monkey and frowns, then shrugs at Carina. "Sorry, even my robots have limitations! Sometimes they listen to me and then everything goes horribly wrong. But it's nice to meet you!" he smiles and holds out one of his white gloved hands, the normal fleshy one.
Carina slowly blinks in Warren’s direction, an equally slow movement accompanying the way in which she plucks the cigarette from his hand and looks up to the machine on his shoulder. “I suppose that’s one way of handling you, isn’t it?” She admits with a brief look over to Michelle, then back again. Carina stares down at the cigarette, then shakes her head and tucks it behind her ear.
“S’nice t’finally meet you too, Warren.” Carina says as she slides off of her stool, offering a sideways look to the robot before squaring on its maker again. “Just try and keep your monkeyshines to yourself.” She adds with a wink then hooks her arm around Jared’s, affording him a momentary look of anywhere but here, before guiding him over to Elisabeth and Richard. It may not be paradise, here or otherwise, but in the end… it’s pretty good.
The sheer variety of people that attended the wedding is stunning to Cassandra. Sure, some faces she recognizes while several others are only fleeting or unknown, but all are here on the behest of the bride and groom. These are all people that mean something to Richard and Elisabeth, and the pair of them felt strongly enough to make them all witnesses to a historic moment in their lives. “I like your tattoos.” Cassandra says as an aside to Elisabeth. “And I’m pretty sure he does, too.” Smiling to herself, she sinks back into the background, remaining quiet and as near Elisabeth as she can be without being in the way. Most of all, she watches, smiling at the shade being thrown by the sassy man complaining that he wasn’t allowed to sing, and watching the children play.
Down the beach, where the kids and the bodyguards play, sparklers and small poppers have been handed out, drawing people’s attention as they draw abstract shapes in the fading light thanks to a pen tipped with heated chemical reaction or send sand splattering with a pop, a playful chorus of giggles following soon after. Another man, checking his watch and approved to be there, fiddles with an arrangement of boxes sunk into the sand and, at the appropriate time, moves to a safe distance before twisting a key, starting a secure system’s programming, sending precisely metered electric pulses zipping along to mortars buried in the hillside.
With a muffled thud, the first firework shoots straight up into the distance over the ocean before bursting, leaving a trail of orange in its wake. The sparks from the shell expand outwards like a flower, then tumble like a scarlet waterfall down to the ocean below. The second follows shortly thereafter, floating in a glittering silver shower once it detonates. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then a pair in quick succession - red and green.
The firework show has begun.
At Emily's urging, Dev starts toward the man and woman of the hour. Of course, he's tugging her right along with him, his hand wrapped up with hers. There's only a brief pause when Magnes suddenly appears, eyes narrowing a fraction.
“Emily's my girlfriend, and part of the team,” he explains. Conversationally. And with a glance to Emily. Anything else is left for her to fill in as she will or won't, while he continues on.
“For the record, I'm still calling you Uncle,” he calls when he's closer to the pair of elopers. Because he needs to make it all the more awkward whenever he can. One arm reaches to pull Liz into a quick hug — interrupting anything or not, he doesn't care — and the other reaches to shake Richard’s hand. “Good job, nice work, gold stars for you both. I'm going to drag Emily on a walk, but we will catch up with you two when it's less crazy around here.”
Hugs are given, and kisses to the cheek offered to Elisabeth and Richard alike as Raquelle chuckles softly and glances over to where his girls are enjoying themselves and then his gaze drifts over to meet the eyes of the man who owns his heart. They share a moment filled with promises before he blinks back to the topic at hand. He flashes grins to new faces, and soft smiles and sassy winks are offered to familiar faces. His eyes linger on Felix for a moment as flashbacks of a time years ago when his daughter was missing and brought back to him.
He’d cry but he’s in public and he is not trying to ruin his mascara again.
He offers another bro-hug sling of an arm to Richard and turns smoothly to offer another small hug to Elisabeth as the fireworks go off. “Love is an amazing thing you two. Never lose it..” He finally offers softly.
By the time he finds his way to the microphone, he’s also retrieved the simple acoustic guitar (well, one of his acoustic guitars) and he lets glossy glittery black nails pick over a few notes before leaning forward. “Hello all you beautiful kings, queens, and other leaders supreme.” He starts out softly. “Once upon a time, we’d all be in Vegas for this shindig. But Pretty Ricky and his Queen Elisabeth were like ‘eff the Vegas wedding, lets screw up and miss the entire point of eloping and take our friends to an island getaway. We might not get Elvis or Cher to marry us but they have pineapples not in a can.” He drawls before winking and chuckling softly. “Lets hear it for the beautiful couple and lets hear it for family, friends and love…”
Then he lets his eyes fall on Bolivar again, lips quirking in a small smile as he starts plucking and strumming and singing. He lets his eyes close as his gift wraps around his words…showing for a moment the depth of genuine love and adoration he has for the man channeled into his gift for the couple /actually/ getting married. “Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick…And think of you…” He starts out carefully, singing the versus with soft tenderness. Picking a song he feels fully encompasses the occasion and circumstances of many people here. And he hits the chorus.
“Then you say, go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds…
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time”
Notably more relaxed the past few minutes when compared to before the short ceremony Elisabeth admits softly, "Not me." She was sure that something, someone, would interfere. It was becoming something of an obsession the past several weeks, which was what finally drove their rather unorthodox approach and lack of warning to anyone — she couldn't get past the growing irrational panic that it was all going to disappear again. That the universe would find a way to stop them from having happy for even a little while. There are faces missing — extended family and friends not here. But the band around her finger is an anchor that settles her heart. Even if Fate decides to be a bitch (AGAIN), she can't take this. It's done.
She's grateful that he simply takes her occasional bouts of rampant paranoia in stride.
Devon's arrival brings her attention back to their companions. "Brat," she chides affectionately, reaching up to hug the young man very tightly. When she steps back, she smiles at him and Emily, urging, "Go, go! It's a beautiful night." She shoots a smile at her parents too.
Fireworks are a surprise. She jumps a little as Raquelle hugs her again, startled by the sound, and tears up as she catches a breath — he's going to sing after all!
Her arm slips around Richard's waist. Elisabeth looks up at him, a lump in her throat. There were too many times over the years that she knew she would never stand in this world and have this chance. If it's waving a red flag at the universe, well… so be it. They'll deal with that too. For tonight, there is no world past the beach. The wicked twinkle in her smile should probably give away the next words.
"Dance with me?"