An Intimate Affair - The Wedding

Temple of the White Dragon 

Of all the holy ground that has ever been established in the Empire of Fastheld, the simplistic nature of the Temple of the White Dragon may well make it one of the most immaculate of them all. It consists of an inner and an outer chamber, with two thirds of the overall dimensions of the monument building belonging to the interior area. It is directly connected to Dawnstar Keep at the southern end, with a projecting "H" of columns forming the entrance in the middle of the eastern side. The inner chamber of the temple is thirty meters long by twenty meters wide, with internal marble colonnades in two tiers, structurally necessary to support the roof. On the exterior, the columns measure two meters in diameter and are ten meters high. The corner columns are slightly larger in diameter. In total, the temple features forty-six outer pillars and nineteen inner pillars in total. The top step of the stepped platform upon which colonnades of the temple columns are placed has an upward curvature towards its center of three inches on the east and west ends, and of four inches on the sides. The roof is covered with large overlapping marble tiles. Inside the temple, the arsenic-shade of stone is blanketed with golden-timber panels and beams, while the floor consists of black, reflective marble tiles. The contrast between black and gold is nothing if not spectacular. A vast stained-glass window, a semi-circle in shape, rests flush against the western wall, depicting a rising sun in an azure dawn over a landscape of emerald, jade, and viridian. Though most of the inner chamber remains as open hall space, various rooms surrounding the chamber provide areas for lodging and storage for the various Paladins and Clerics of the Order of the White Dragon to use as required. Training is often done in the separate area of the inner chamber, segregated from the mail hall of worship. It is in that hall of worship that the temple's greatest artifact remains: set into the black marble floor of the main inner chamber, cast in radiant argentite, rests the insignia of the Order of the White Dragon - an abstract dragon, depicting the light as a creature that is less a living entity than a real force of nature. The collision of these two themes is at once both a testament to the True Light itself, and the dragoness who acts as an agent of the Light, Sara'tharalax.

Rain or no rain, there is at least one Lomasa in the crowd - near the edge of the room, Farrel brushes water from his cloak, patient and curious, eyeing the gathering with a thoughtful, placid expression.

From the storm into the temple slips one tall, dark green, dripping cloak...bearing underneath it a somewhat drier bard. The Freelander takes a quiet seat at the back, staying out of sight as much as he could reasonably expect to do.


 * ''Rain or no rain, there are many Lomasas in the crowd. They sit or stand, chatter or attempt to withold tears - they are an emotional bunch. Near the front of the room is a pair of tall, dark and broad men who are speaking to the Cleric Kahar, who is blushing purple and attempting to exude a calm exterior in the face of a wedding which is progressing late. Lomasas are better known for patience than punctuality, it would seem.

Patience, thy watchword is Farrel, the blonde nobleman more intereste din the crowd than the Cleric, more interested in faces, right now, than the ceremony. He shifts his cloak - arranging it just-so - and simply remains watchful.

Slipping through the doors a mere moment after Taran is a figure in a large gray cloak, the velvet dappled with rain. Stopping just over the threshold, Sahna Nillu pulls away first the hood, then the silver clasp on the cloak. Pulling it off, she drapes the damp garment over an arm, then advances.

Coming swiftly from the outer reaches of the Temple arrives the brown-clad, disarmed form of Norran Lomasa. Dressed pridefully in his nigh-flawless, intricate silk clothing, he makes his way briskly toward the front of the Temple. His light, slippered steps bring him quickly through the temple, offering his usual smiles and polite bows of his head at familiar faces but avoiding to take time out for conversation. As he nears the front, he flashes an innocent, cheerful grin at the Cleric and offers a lackdaisical salute to the two men nearby.

The lomasa nobleman up near the front, along that wall? Watching as he does he misses neither entrance, and interestingly enough - he raises a hand in greeting to the slight noblewoman in question - notably surprised for a moment before his expression goes back to that placid warmth.. though with the addition of a new, wry smile.

Finally, /finally/, a small blonde woman enters on the arm of a hulking man with her same coloring: the Viscount Ganard Lomasa is immediately recognized by some of the crowd, who turn to see the father and daughter ensemble. He is enormous, almost succeeding six and a half feet, extremely broad, very thickle muscles and sporting an enviable beard. This man brings the little woman, fully clad in white, to the front of the church. Her expression is severe as she assumes the left side of the Duke.


 * ''Ganard steps to the side and his two sons retreat to the ranks of the guests: indeed, they are primarily Lomasa, jovial, slightly brusque, and smattered by nobles from other houses and a handful of freelanders. These common people are generally high-ranking; there is a line of Imperial watch flanking the north and south sides of the temple, but they appear to consider themselves guests, regalia or not. There is some relief in the cleric's face as she lifts her head, regarding the couple before her. She pronounces some form of greeting which is generally returned in kind; she appears pleased to be done with it. Addressing the general crowd: "Has any of these witnesses any evidence that this man and this woman should not be legally wed on this day, or any sufficient form of protest?"

Spotting Farrel, the small Nillu noblewoman adjusts her circlet and glides over to the wayward Lomasa, edging her way through the crowd with expert precision. Her smile in return is remarkably lacking in bitterness as she takes a position beside Farrel, lace-gloved hands folded behind her back. Sahna turns to look at the priest, smile twisting wryly on her lips as she remains silent.

Farrel retains that smile, sweeping a bow as the dutchess comes to stand with him - even murmering something softly to her as he then turns back to the ceremony in progress.

Norran remains completely cheerful, his smile noticably unwavering despite the rushed and severe attitudes of those near him. He stands tall, clasping his hands behind his back as he looks toward Milora with a faintly amused twinkle in his emerald gaze. He leans over somewhat to offer her a few whispered words to her as she stands at his side, before resuming his previously erect stance.

Nodding curtly, the priest continues. Such a question is a matter of legality alone, and in only one or two out of every three hundred weddings is anything ever /actually/ said, at least to her knowledge. "Your Grace and my lady," she says, regarding these two before her with a hawkish gaze, "if there is a reason in either mind or heart to prohibit your legal marriage on this day, confess it now."

Milora blinks up at her betrothed, and gives a rather grave nod. She does not appear to relax, however, until the priest continues, at which time she smiles. "There is no reason in my mind or heart," she replies standardly.

Sahna's gaze tracks the pair, sweeping over the duo in a leisurely manner. Offering her arm to Farrel, she leans over under guise of offering him her arm to whisper something subtly.

"Not a single reason in either my heart or mind," replies Norran in a assuring tone, beaming a bright smile at the cleric after he looks toward Milora.

The young woman smiles at Norran, lifting a hand from her flowers to briefly touch one of her carefully arranged curls. Her attention has drifted from the cleric, as well it should have at this point in the ceremony.


 * ''"Then may the Light shine on this union." The priest reclines on her heels a moment, staring straight ahead and murmuring some lengthy prayer beneath her breath. Returning and addressing the Duke: "Duke Norran Lomasa of Riverhold Castle, will you have this woman as your wedded wife, will you love her, and honour her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep yourself only to her, so long as you both shall live?"

Farrel watches the wedding with his own placid expression, smiling still - patting at Sahna's hand with his free one.

Norran's reply remains simple, giving the cleric a firm nod and states clearly and loudly enough to breach the din, "I shall." His hands remain calmly clasped behind him.

Sahna smiles again-- Or rather, she pulls her lips back in a parody of a smile, but her expression is entirely without humor. Nodding at Norran's answer, Farrel pats again at Sahna's hand - a nominally comforting gesture.


 * ''"Then, Lady Milora Lomasa, will you have this man as your wedded husband, will you love him, and honour him, serve him and obey him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep yourself only to him, so long as you both shall live?"

Norran's answer appears to delight Milora on more than one level; she barely restrains a bubbly grin, bites her lip and directs her attention to the priest. "I /will/," declares she emphatically, to the mild amusement of some of the attendants.


 * ''The cleric, however, remains utterly stoic. At this point the broad blonde man comes forward, removing her bouquet from her and murmuring something inaubiable. By standing on her toes, Milora is able to kiss his jaw through his beard. "That your father may keep your childhood with him, and give your adult life entirely to your husband." With that, Ganard obediently joins Milora's hand, farthest from the priest, with Norran's, and regains his original position. He does not appear happy. "That your marriage may be blessed by the Light." Savantis, likewise, joins their other hands together. "Now repeat your vows in its face, here and now."

For anyone paying attention - as unlikely as that may be - it's Ganard that gets most of Farrel's placid attention, an eyebrow inching up just slightly.

Both of Sahna's eyebrows raise, gaze tracking Ganard now, expression one of speculation.

Taran - quiet, in his seat at the back, hood drawn up so that his Mark does not draw attention from the couple - has had nothing to say, made no movement at all. Immobile, the mage watches silently. Only watches.

Norran doesn't react very differently to Ganard's unhappiness, merely offering the man a smile and a nod before he returns his attention to Milora. As the cleric directs, he recites the vow carefully toward the noblewoman before him, "I, Norran Lomasa, take you, Milora Lomasa, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the Light will ordain it: in this way, I pledge to you my troth."

"I, Milora Lomasa, take you, Norran Lomasa, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part, if the Light will ordain it. In this way, I pledge to you my troth." Milora's words are a mere traditional repetition, but from her low, strong tone, one may infer that they hold a firm and intimate connotation to her. She looks up at Norran, serious and serene.


 * ''Savantis appears to approve. "Have you the rings?" -- At this point there is a gruff "OH!" from the audiance: Achtan Lomasa stumbles forth from the side of a fairly pretty woman in Seamel colours to present the cleric with a tiny biinwood box. She glowers at him; he retreats, utterly cowed, to his seat and his brother along with the woman he is escorting laugh at him under their breaths. Opening the box, Savantis removes two glittering ornaments and prays over them quietly before returning them to the couple before her.

Swiftly, and silently, Milora places the ring given to her on Norran's finger; she bends her neck and respectfully kisses the back of that hand.

Ever urbane, even Farrel can't resist a wry smile, and a low laugh at the curse and that moment - his joins the low titter that runs through the assembly.

The young Patriarch grins to himself as he watches Milora's brother scramble, but otherwise keeps his quiet. Once Milora places the ring on her finger, he does the same, carefully taking her hand in his and slipping the ring on the appropriate finger. Leaned over as he is, he places a soft kiss on her forehead and smiles toward her as he pulls away to regard the cleric once more.

Milora appears to approve heartily of /that/.


 * ''Ganard looks like he might weep. A ripple of murmurs is exuded from a corner of the room where a woman has whispered at a misplaced volume: "Aren't they married now?" Savantis looks as though she will split in two; an enthusiastic vivacity is demonstrated in the verbose blessing that she commences. "So shall these people be blessed by the Light, and may the Light guide and keep and protect them in their marriage, their reign and their lives. To you witnesses, you Imperials, be you Noble or Common, I present as man and wife Norran and Milora Lomasa, Duke and Duchess of House Lomasa."

Farrel Lomasa applauds politely, joining in with the rest as the couple is presented, chuckling softly - and leaning in to murmer something softly to the dutchess at his side. That done, the nobleman fades back a step, already reaching to raise his hood.

Sahna applauds too.. Well, it's more of a golf-clap, a ladylike patting of lace-gloved hands. She nods over to Farrel, murmuring through the applause, "Oh, I'll be there."

Taran doesn't so much applaud - it's hard to tell, with the cloak about him - as bow forward a bit. Acknowledgement, if such is required. He then gets to his feet - rest is over, and now it is time for him to work.

Applause begun, Norran smiles broadly at the attention, a tinge of red in his cheeks as he looks back to Milora. He reaches his hands to cradle her face, leaning down to press his lips to hers and doing his best as it being the first kiss of their new marriage.

"Hmmm." Milora's own hands are placed on either of Norran's shoulders; her own face is quite pink as he kisses her. When that is done with, she takes one of his arms rather posessively in her own and turns to the door of the church.


 * ''"And now we drink," Tarran says to his older brother as he rises. Savantis looks at him severely, already moving from her place at the crest of the room, and she gives her a sheepish shrug. She, however, nods tersely. "Now we drink," she says in vehement agreement.


 * ''Ganard moves forward, retaining one of the lilies in the breast of his doublet. The rest of it is returned to Milora to decorate her arm. He then moves to the side of his sons and the betrothed of his eldest. In no particular order, the crowd will follow the married couple out of the temple, and the armed members of the Watch will follow the whole party.

As Milora takes his arm, Norran grins proudly and makes his way out of the temple. As calls for drink at merited, Norran laughs boisterously and calls above the crowd, "Aye! Fine wines and ales and meads and meats to be had at the manor! Have your fill!" This said, Norran moves quite briskly off with Milora.

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