3 days before Erskine Ravel and Madame Mist's wedding
Anton danced around the kitchen with cake mix in one hand, a whisk in the other. One shoulder was hunched up to hold a phone to his ear. The other ear was blocked from the outside world by an earphone bud, which blasted loud music, currently by a group called Sleeping With Sirens, to which he kept a physical rhythm. He often danced when he cooked. It was just something he did. Towards the end of the war he had danced around with baking things while a sad song warbled out from a radio on a table. "I know it's last minute! I know, I know I should have started earlier. I've been busy, okay? I've only just found the time to start. I just called because I forgot the specifics you asked for." The music changed and he slowed his movements to keep to the tempo. He made a few noises to show he understood the instructions on the other end of the phone and put down the cake stuff to make a note of it all. "Okay, got it. I think I can manage that without a shopping trip, thanks." With a sigh, he hung up and went back to working on the cake, putting the other earbud in his now free ear. He had never done requests or special occasions before, but apparently the only thing his friend was getting from his wedding caterers was a giant chocolate elephant. Apparently all the other stuff they did was disgusting. It was supposed to be small but special anyway, and Anton could do that. At least he thought he could. With just three days to go, everything but the stupid damn cake was ready.
Meanwhile, Portia and Paloma were trying on their bridesmaid outfits again. "Not very flattering..." Paloma mumbled. "It makes my hips look like ocean liners."
"At least you have hips." Portia snapped back. "Shut up, you look like a fluffy cloud. happy?"
"No." The dresses had frills on them and were more showy than the bride's dress, which was simple, slinky, silky and shiny, and loads of other nice words beginning with s. The bridesmaid dresses looked fine and made the girls who had to wear them look lovely, but Paloma was determined to make as big a fuss and complaint as she possibly could. It was actually really annoying Portia. The Child of the Spider got to her feet, pulled off the dress and got ready to leave. "Portia?"
"It...it's exciting, isn't it?"
"Eh. Just the other day you were complaining about Ravel being an outsider. Bu-ut...yes, I'd say it is rather exciting..."
"I mean, the whole wedding prospect...it'll be dead boring in itself, but I love the idea of weddings...just wish the couple was very very different is all..."
"Of course you do. I think they look fine together."
"I think Mist being in a relationship with anyone is weird."
Ghastly looked over a few notes he had made. They were for the Best Man's speech. He had been thinking about what to say and in the end, as he looked at these, decided to wing it. They weren't even written for this particular wedding. They were vague, general notes about the sort of thing expected and they were ancient. They pre-dated Skulduggery's wedding. He was a little concerned about his friend's decision to marry during a war. It simply increased the chances of roughly a million things going wrong.
In the early morning light, Madame Mist eased herself out of the bed and went over to the dressing table, taking a post-it note and writing a little message. She dressed and kissed her fiancée goodbye. He stirred and mumbled something, but didn't get up. She smiled beneath her veil and walked downstairs, going to the kitchen and making coffee on an impulse. She heard movement from upstairs, the thunk of the walking stick moving to the bathroom. She finished her coffee as he got downstairs. A smile broke out across Erskine's face. "Thought you'd gone home to mentally prepare yourself or whatever."
"Wanted a coffee first. There's enough left in the pot for you too."
He nodded his thanks and hobbled over to the coffee pot. She gave him another kiss and departed.
"I could give you a lift into the Sanctuary." He offered.
"I feel like walking. If that's okay."
He shrugged. "That's fine."
"See you there."
"Yeah, see you."
She walked with a slight spring in her step. He grinned and watched her go.
Erskine gave a slight nod. "It's kind of just occurred to me that if any of Mevolent's men get wind of this, and of how small it's going to be, they might just target it."
"We'll have security."
"How effective will it be?"
Ghastly hesitated. "Not very." He admitted finally. "We'd have a bit of an early warning system though, I guess."
Ravel chuckled a little. "The Cleavers are being killed, everyone out the back way?"
"Something like that, yeah."
There was a moment's silence. "They've certainly been taking as many chances as they can to take Sanctuaries. Australia, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Germany...all fallen recently...and France just suffered a takeover attempt. Not sure how much longer America will last...they're going to take this chance, aren't they?"
"That's not for sure...but we're going to have as much security as we can without making it too obvious."
Ravel took a deep breath and smiled. "On the plus side, I'm getting married in the morning."
"That's a plus side?"
He stood. "Ding dong, the bells are gonna chiiiime!"
"Pull out the stopper, let's have a whopper!"
"I'm sorry I ever showed you that film..."
"But get me to the church on tiiiiime!"
"I gotta be there in the morning, spruced up and looking in me prime! Girls come and kiss me, show how you'll miss m-" He was cut off as Ghastly covered his mouth with his hand. They laughed, struggling against each other. They certainly were enjoying themselves until Ghastly accidentally slammed his friend's head into the desk hard enough to draw blood.
Ravel straightened up and held his hand to the cut. He sighed deeply. "Better go get that stitched."
"That'll teach me to stop singing."
The Wedding Day
Erskine stood at the alter, pushing his friend/best man playfully. They were having a small push war, something to work away the nerves. The guests already assembled watched them, some disapprovingly, some with smiles. Music began to play and the men settled themselves. The groom kept his eyes on the floor as the bride approached.
Nobody attacked during the ceremony. They got through it with the only issue being the priest guy mispronouncing Erskine's name (a simple slip of the tongue, you understand). Nobody attacked during the reception. It went without a hitch and everyone adored the chocolate and marshmallow elephant and Anton's cooking. Well, when I say without a hitch...Paloma did vomit on the potato salad. Nobody attacked as the bride and groom took their leave for a rather short honeymoon.
No, Mevolent's forces were deciding to strike the third Elder instead. When he was alone. After that, luring Ravel away from Mist and taking them down separately would be all too easy, or so they thought...
((Aaaaand Nemone got lost with the happy, having already written a wedding piece for a different couple recently, only this was harder because it wasn't comedic, and it isn't the best but it went better than I thought it would, and I'm sure it's fine (sanguineoutlooksRus). Then my brain failed to think of a way to write the wedding itself without straying from pure happy with maybe a little bit of nerve. Enjoy while I go get shipped...seriously, someone is shipping me with Sanguine...I know what it's like to be a fictional character...awkward and uncomfortable, yet flattering and exciting...they've even invented us a daughter O_o))