A Very Nexus Reception
Dec. 7th, 2019 04:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smartass_captainTo all the friends of the happy grooms, PINpoint messages have already been sent weeks ago inviting them to expect quite the street party arranged in the commons of the Nexus. Guests have been invited to bring an appetite--both for food and for a social adventure. Nirnish weddings are public affairs, after all. While the ceremony has had to be somewhat sequestered for the sake of keeping the existence of Other Worlds a secret, neither Felix nor Jim would want to leave out their interdimensional friends entirely. Having a reception party arranged in the Nexus became the natural plan of action.
Overnight large sections of the Commons are transformed via diligent craftsmanship and quite a lot of magic from those who’ve volunteered. Lanterns representing the Divines are hung along every lamp post, bringing at least the idea of warmth even if the flames are too small to heat their surroundings alone. Bardic tunes carry in the air as readily as the scent of food and drink. Past banners of red and black, blue and white the people gather.
For both grooms this is nearly a continuation of the day before. They’ve had the chance to sleep off the nerves of their ceremony. Today is entirely for celebration--uninhibited celebration at that. No more minding what is said and isn’t. No more pretending to be anything other than who they are. Jim’s traded out his Nirnish finery for a suit and tie, garments he’s much more familiar with. Felix is staying with his native clothing; though he may have dressed down a little from his wedding clothes, the conjurer’s dressed in fitted breeches and his best fur-trimmed coat and boots, the soft hide dyed blue to match his tunic. By their side sits the conjurer’s spectral wolf familiar, ears pricked at the gathering.
As the guests find their ways over it will be easy to spot their friends amidst all the decor along with many other avenues with which to enjoy themselves….
Greetings
Food and Drink
Music and Dancing
Bonfire Entertainment
Party Games
((Links to all relevent wedding Prose can be found Here!))
Overnight large sections of the Commons are transformed via diligent craftsmanship and quite a lot of magic from those who’ve volunteered. Lanterns representing the Divines are hung along every lamp post, bringing at least the idea of warmth even if the flames are too small to heat their surroundings alone. Bardic tunes carry in the air as readily as the scent of food and drink. Past banners of red and black, blue and white the people gather.
For both grooms this is nearly a continuation of the day before. They’ve had the chance to sleep off the nerves of their ceremony. Today is entirely for celebration--uninhibited celebration at that. No more minding what is said and isn’t. No more pretending to be anything other than who they are. Jim’s traded out his Nirnish finery for a suit and tie, garments he’s much more familiar with. Felix is staying with his native clothing; though he may have dressed down a little from his wedding clothes, the conjurer’s dressed in fitted breeches and his best fur-trimmed coat and boots, the soft hide dyed blue to match his tunic. By their side sits the conjurer’s spectral wolf familiar, ears pricked at the gathering.
As the guests find their ways over it will be easy to spot their friends amidst all the decor along with many other avenues with which to enjoy themselves….
((Links to all relevent wedding Prose can be found Here!))
no subject
Date: 2019-12-10 08:47 pm (UTC)"Watch it, girl, you don't haveta- Malacath's balls, that's a well-dressed zombie."
Marcella's mouth is working in silence. The last time she saw Harrowheart he was shut tight in his all-concealing armor. But somewhere in her brain the connection is made between that voice and the tall, death-smelling knight who went looking for her cousin, because after a few moments the words come out: "It's you?"
no subject
Date: 2019-12-13 02:31 am (UTC)"In the flesh. I'm an old pal of Jim's. Met him here, in this place. On the same night Felix met him, come to think of it. They sure have come a long way..."
His glowing eyes scan the crowd. He half expects to see the couple, but he doesn't catch sight of them. He does glance over at The Orc in the process, though. It seems he might be content to keep on looking, but after a few seconds he can't stop his eyes from drifting back in her direction.
This is a wedding, he has to remind himself. No pot-stirrin' at weddings. Pretty sure anti-Orcism counts as pot-stirring. That means he's going to have to practice brain-to-mouth filtration. Time for an old dog to learn a new trick. Though she did call him a zombie, which is something he's never been partial to, and so if he were to say something back, wouldn't that just be making it all even?...
As Harrowheart mulls over his behavioral protocols and the ramifications of bad behavior, he stares. Just stares and stares, unblinking and unbreathing, as if he had been suddenly petrified.
And then he laughs! He huffs a little laugh and turns back to Marcella as if no time at all had passed. There's a small smile on his face, even. "See you brought your ladyfriend. Tell her I said hello. You can tell her I said 'thank you,' too, since we're at a weddin' and bein' kind and on best behaviors and all."
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Date: 2019-12-16 09:09 pm (UTC)Wait, didn't Felix say something about a party once, where he and Jim met? Marcella frowns. She really has no idea what goes on at parties in this place...
But she's trying to compose herself in between mopping up the spilled wine, hating the squeak in her voice just now. It's not helping at all the way he's just staring around them, motionless, like a- a statue. A statue that might come to life at any moment- Marcella's biting her lip and frowning up at him when he stirs abruptly.
She stiffens, but the smith has found her footing now. Mostly. She folds her hands in her lap primly and lifts her chin to stare back at him... albeit with a bit of bewilderment. Right. He's the one with a grudge against Orcs. (This isn't really unusual back in Cyrodiil, but not to the point of actually threatening Orcs just going about their business.)
"You can tell her yourself easily enough," she points out, eyebrows raised at him. This looks like a woman who frowns a lot more than she smiles. But. He's not wrong about the kind of occasion it is. Marcella pauses. "Thank you, too. For bringing Felix home safely." He did help with that, even if she has no idea exactly how. Maybe being undead gave him an advantage dealing with- whatever her cousin had got into.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-23 06:29 pm (UTC)"When I came to Tamriel, my fate and Felix's were bound together. If he didn't get home safe, I wouldn't have neither. But... Even if that hadn't been the case... He's the man Jim loves, and Jim's my friend, and a man in my condition's gotta do what needs to be done for the few friends he's lucky enough to make."
He takes a sip of his drink. When he lowers the glass from his lips his eyes are narrowed in thought, scrutinizing Marcella.
"You and your orc friend married yet?"
no subject
Date: 2019-12-26 11:00 pm (UTC)She's trying to settle how she feels about that, and covering it with another drink of wine, when Harrow springs his question and makes her nearly splutter it all over herself.
"M-married?" She coughs, furiously trying to clear her throat. "We're not- she's not my sweetheart. She's like a mother to me!"
no subject
Date: 2020-01-06 05:39 pm (UTC)A small noise ekes out of Harrow’s throat as he stares into the middle distance. There’s got to be a way to come back from this, right? There’s got to be some kind of solution. Think, Harrowheart! Think!
His gaze slowly shifts to The Orc, where he lingers for a moment before muttering, “You look good for your age.”
no subject
Date: 2020-01-08 11:44 pm (UTC)Then she breaks into a guffaw.
"You thought WHAT? Hahahaha! Malacath's hammer, that's a good one! Guess all the forge fumes are doing my skin good, huh?"
"Elves age slower than humans," Marcella mutters, rolling her eyes at her business partner's entertainment. "Ushug must have a hundred years on me."
The Orc woman raps her fist on the table, muscles flexing beneath her dress. "Young enough to wrestle either of you under the table!"
no subject
Date: 2020-01-10 05:25 pm (UTC)No. No sympathy. She’s an orc! Harrowheart, remember yourself. Remember your values! He furrows his brow and tries for his best frown of disapproval, but he’s much better at receiving than giving in that regard.
“What do Elves got to do with this?” he grunts. “She’s an orc. And orcs don’t live to be a hundred. And, I know for a fact she’s full’a shit, ‘cause I’d for sure destroy her if we were wrestlin’.” Rippling orc forgemistress muscles be damned.
He crosses his arms and looks between them. Case closed, ladies. Unless anyone wants to defy him?...
no subject
Date: 2020-01-18 06:54 pm (UTC)And then a THUMP as Ushug slams her elbow down on the table. Cards and drinks are shunted aside with a sweep of her other hand, much to the grumbling of the other players.
"You leave now and I'm keeping the coin-"
"Shove it up your buddy's arse for all I care," she retorts, emphasizing it with a hand gesture that doesn't look polite. Ushug's not even looking: she's giving Harrow the kind of toothy grin you need two-inch tusks for. "All right, fly bait. You think prissy, pretty-faced runts are the only kind of elves there are? Come get a lesson."
no subject
Date: 2020-02-01 02:46 pm (UTC)Harrowheart locks eyes with Ushug, stern as can be for the length of a few breaths... And then he smiles.
"Show me what you got, greenskin."
no subject
Date: 2020-02-01 03:49 pm (UTC)Ushug isn't so hung up on the philosophical details. She's locking hands with Harrow, apparently unperturbed by the chill of his skin. Her grip is strong, her skin callused and weathered from decades of smithing, matching the small scars here and there on her face.
"Careful your arm doesn't fall off," she taunts back. Her other hand slams down on the table: one, two, THREE! And they're on! Fire-forged orcish brawn against the unholy strength of the dead. Steel-shaper against bone-breaker! Locked in a duel for the ages, teeth bared across the table.
Marcella decides to keep the bottle.
no subject
Date: 2020-02-01 04:27 pm (UTC)Harrowheart huffs a laugh as he pushes in vain against her. "Not bad for a breather."
And then it's... A whole lot of nothing. Two duelists, each alike in
dignitystrength, doesn't necessarily produce the most riveting competition. For his part, Harrowheart doesn't breathe, and his facial expression remains nearly unchanging but for the frequent twitch of his brow.And then there's the sound of cloth tearing. It must be his suit. Right?...
no subject
Date: 2020-02-01 05:50 pm (UTC)There's a long rrrriiiiIIIIP! when the fabric binding Harrow's wrist gives way. Ushug's hand slams his to the table before she clocks what's happened.
"THAT'S what I-ah?" Triumph turns to confusion. Beside them, Marcella clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her drink again. Ushug looks from his severed wrist, exposed flesh and bone poking out from rent cloth. Lifts the hand still clutched in hers to look at it.
"...Hah. HahahahaHAHAHA!" She plonks his hand back in front of him, leaning on the table as mirth overcomes her.