The Wedding.
May. 16th, 2019 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chiron_survivorThe wedding itself was a simple affair. No hordes of bridesmaids and groomsmen clustered about the dais of the small, non-denominational temple. Instead, there were only a handful of witnesses: Seth and Maggie and little Jason on the bride’s side, and Sharon, Julia, and Leoben on the groom’s.
Caspar had extended the invitation to the latter two as a peace offering of sorts, although he was mildly regretting Julia’s presence. The blonde was already crying into a tissue and the ceremony hadn’t even begun. Ignoring her, he absently smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in his burgundy blazer and checked the small orange tulip boutonniere pinned to his lapel one last time, waiting for the arrival of the bride.
But first was Hera, dressed in frilly white, a basket full of orange tulip petals in her grasp. There was absolutely no way she would miss a chance to be a flower girl, and Caspar was certainly not going to say no to her. So down the aisle she went, picking petals from her basket and placing them slowly and deliberately, one by one, on the smooth stone floor.
“Hera,” her father whispered from the dais. He was officiating the wedding, dressed in his Captain’s uniform, mildly embarrassed that his daughter was taking her duties too seriously. “Hera, you can drop a handful at a time, like we practiced…”
Hera ignored her father, and despite Caspar’s impatience, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the way she systematically completed her task before handing the empty basket to her father and shouting, “All done!” A ripple of laughter passed among the adults as she skipped over to her mother’s side. Caspar gave her a thumbs-up before returning his gaze to the temple’s entrance.
Then Adia stepped into view and he forgot how to breathe.
She smiled at him, twisting the bouquet of tulips in her hands as she walked down the aisle, the gauzy white-to-burgundy ombre of her dress flowing around her, gently brushing against the stone floor. There was no veil to hide her face, her hair pinned up in a braided crown, nothing to come between him and the happiness shining in her eyes. Their Nexus tailor, Alex, had insisted that Caspar not see her dress before the wedding, and at the time he had considered it a pointless human tradition. But now he understood. He was meant to feel like he was being struck by a thousand of Eros’s arrows, his code scrambled, his face flushed. Just like the very first time she had smiled at him, way back on the Chiron, when all he could think about was how he could get her to smile like that again.
He spent the entire ceremony watching her, barely registering the order of events, moving automatically when instructed. They lit a candle for Persephone, a candle for Artemis, and a candle for the rest of the gods. They recited their vows, and Caspar was glad that they used a standard set and had not written their own, because there was no way he’d be able to remember them, let alone recite them in some sort of coherent fashion.
He only came back to himself when it was time to exchange their wedding rings. Two simple bands, hers inlaid with a moonstone, his with a lodestone. Gifts from a clefable and magnezone who went through their own special ceremony. As Adia slid the ring on his finger, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. He returned the gesture, then entwined his fingers with hers, holding hands while Karl read the blessing of the rings.
As he lost himself in her beauty once more, he failed to notice the silence that descended in the temple, broken only by Julia’s sniffles and Jason’s innocent babbling. Adia’s serene smile turned quizzical, then amused. Caspar, she mouthed silently, jerking her head towards the dais.
Caspar looked up at Karl, who was very obviously holding back laughter. Shit. Had he missed something?
“He pronounced you husband and wife!” Seth shouted in exasperation. “Kiss her already, would ya?”
So much for that aura of contentment. He tried to give Seth a withering look, but Adia had already reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. Laughing, she took the initiative and kissed him deeply. What else could he do but return it? He wrapped his arms around her, embarrassment melting into a warm, deep joy.
They were married.
~*~
The wedding reception was far more elaborate.
Adia had let Maggie arrange everything, and her friend did not disappoint. She had transformed their shared outdoor space into a sprawling garden party, tables and chairs decorated with tulips of all colors, although the centerpieces were uniformly orange. A long row of tables held dinner buffet-style: roast lamb and chicken, plates of vegetables sautéed in olive oil, stuffed grape leaves, bowls of fresh fruit with tangy yogurt for dipping.
The wedding cake was a masterpiece, a cheesecake dripping with blueberries and honey. Adia skipped most of her dinner so she’d have room for plenty of cake.
There were no formal toasts, no bride ‘kidnapping’ or bouquet tossing. No putting her or Caspar on the spot. There were plenty of congratulations, and time to spend talking with individual guests, which is what she liked best. Most of her friends and neighbors showed up, as did her lab colleagues and several of Caspar’s siblings. She had worried a little that some people might turn their noses up at the interspecies wedding, but it had been nothing but kind words and admiration, for both her and Caspar.
And, she supposed as she looked over the eclectic gathering, there was no reason to worry in the first place. The Cylons did not stay secluded from the other guests. In fact, many of the Cylons brought a human-plus-one to the reception. Caspar’s brother was sharing bites of cake with a striking redhead — one of the librarians, maybe? Julia was chatting up a shy young man who worked in Adia’s lab. And her Centurion friend had a human companion of its own, an older woman who was using a binary-to-common translator to communicate with it. Whatever it was saying to her was giving her the giggles.
And Caspar. Maybe it was the wine or the many compliments given on his suit, but even he had come out of his shell, mingling with the other guests and talking to people for more than thirty seconds at a time. It showed how far he had come — how far they had all come — and her heart swelled with pride over her people and their home.
A fiddler and an old man with a squeeze box began playing some lively tunes, and several couples took to the clearing to dance. Adia watched while she sipped from her glass of mead; she hadn’t wanted a first dance, not with so many people around, but she was happy to see others having a good time.
She wandered along the edge of the party, pausing at the memorial set up on an empty table. Framed photos of her parents and grandmother, of Caspar’s lost siblings. A candle lit to Hades, burning slowly. A small offering of food.
Would they have liked the wedding, too? She hoped so. Her mother would have liked the dancing. She would have been the first one on the floor, her father hanging back until cajoled into at least one slow dance.
She turned, blinking the sudden mist out of her eyes, and spotted Caspar heading towards her. She met him halfway, setting her glass aside so she could take both his hands and admire their matching rings.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at her softly. “There’s my wife. You want to dance?” She looked to the dance floor nervously, but he shook his head. “No, I know a better spot.” He winked. “Very exclusive.”
She giggled. “All right. I hope I’m dressed appropriately?” She looped her arm through his and let him lead her off, away from the party, into the woods where no one could see them. The late afternoon sunlight cut through the gloom of the forest, shafts of light dancing over them as they picked their way to a small clearing surrounded by old, towering pines.
It was lovely enough as it was, but when Caspar turned and faced her, the scene around them changed. She stepped into a projection of an ancient temple, pillars rising to a shimmering, gilded ceiling. The marble floor beneath them gleamed, and from all around them, a song began to play.
Caspar offered her a hand. “Mrs. Costas, may I have this dance?”
“You may, Mr. Costas.” She smiled at the way he lit up, a happy shiver passing through him as he took her into his arms. It had been his request, to take her last name, finding little worth in his own, a fake name tied to fake memories. She suspected he only kept ‘Caspar’ because he liked hearing her say it.
He gave her so much. It was no trouble to give him her last name in return.
They danced slow, close together, an intimate sway punctuated by the occasional twirl, the skirts of her dress sweeping gracefully against the polished floor. She let him lead, trusting him to keep her from stepping on his shoes or her hem, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes.
“What do you think?” he asked, as the song played its way through the bridge. “I wanted something elegant for our first dance as husband and wife.”
“It’s beautiful,” An idea took hold and she smiled in anticipation. “Although I think it needs one more thing…”
With only a moment’s concentration, she blinked into existence a rainfall of orange tulip petals. Like a shaken snow globe, they swirled around them, a burst of color in the otherwise sedate temple. Caspar stared at them a moment before laughing out loud and lifting her off her feet. He spun her around — once, twice — then set her back down as gently as the petals falling to the ground.
As the end of the song faded out into silence, he rested his forehead against hers, their dance ending in a simple embrace. She shut her eyes and let his steady breathing and arms around her become her entire world.
She was home.
Caspar had extended the invitation to the latter two as a peace offering of sorts, although he was mildly regretting Julia’s presence. The blonde was already crying into a tissue and the ceremony hadn’t even begun. Ignoring her, he absently smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in his burgundy blazer and checked the small orange tulip boutonniere pinned to his lapel one last time, waiting for the arrival of the bride.
But first was Hera, dressed in frilly white, a basket full of orange tulip petals in her grasp. There was absolutely no way she would miss a chance to be a flower girl, and Caspar was certainly not going to say no to her. So down the aisle she went, picking petals from her basket and placing them slowly and deliberately, one by one, on the smooth stone floor.
“Hera,” her father whispered from the dais. He was officiating the wedding, dressed in his Captain’s uniform, mildly embarrassed that his daughter was taking her duties too seriously. “Hera, you can drop a handful at a time, like we practiced…”
Hera ignored her father, and despite Caspar’s impatience, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the way she systematically completed her task before handing the empty basket to her father and shouting, “All done!” A ripple of laughter passed among the adults as she skipped over to her mother’s side. Caspar gave her a thumbs-up before returning his gaze to the temple’s entrance.
Then Adia stepped into view and he forgot how to breathe.
She smiled at him, twisting the bouquet of tulips in her hands as she walked down the aisle, the gauzy white-to-burgundy ombre of her dress flowing around her, gently brushing against the stone floor. There was no veil to hide her face, her hair pinned up in a braided crown, nothing to come between him and the happiness shining in her eyes. Their Nexus tailor, Alex, had insisted that Caspar not see her dress before the wedding, and at the time he had considered it a pointless human tradition. But now he understood. He was meant to feel like he was being struck by a thousand of Eros’s arrows, his code scrambled, his face flushed. Just like the very first time she had smiled at him, way back on the Chiron, when all he could think about was how he could get her to smile like that again.
He spent the entire ceremony watching her, barely registering the order of events, moving automatically when instructed. They lit a candle for Persephone, a candle for Artemis, and a candle for the rest of the gods. They recited their vows, and Caspar was glad that they used a standard set and had not written their own, because there was no way he’d be able to remember them, let alone recite them in some sort of coherent fashion.
He only came back to himself when it was time to exchange their wedding rings. Two simple bands, hers inlaid with a moonstone, his with a lodestone. Gifts from a clefable and magnezone who went through their own special ceremony. As Adia slid the ring on his finger, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. He returned the gesture, then entwined his fingers with hers, holding hands while Karl read the blessing of the rings.
As he lost himself in her beauty once more, he failed to notice the silence that descended in the temple, broken only by Julia’s sniffles and Jason’s innocent babbling. Adia’s serene smile turned quizzical, then amused. Caspar, she mouthed silently, jerking her head towards the dais.
Caspar looked up at Karl, who was very obviously holding back laughter. Shit. Had he missed something?
“He pronounced you husband and wife!” Seth shouted in exasperation. “Kiss her already, would ya?”
So much for that aura of contentment. He tried to give Seth a withering look, but Adia had already reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. Laughing, she took the initiative and kissed him deeply. What else could he do but return it? He wrapped his arms around her, embarrassment melting into a warm, deep joy.
They were married.
~*~
The wedding reception was far more elaborate.
Adia had let Maggie arrange everything, and her friend did not disappoint. She had transformed their shared outdoor space into a sprawling garden party, tables and chairs decorated with tulips of all colors, although the centerpieces were uniformly orange. A long row of tables held dinner buffet-style: roast lamb and chicken, plates of vegetables sautéed in olive oil, stuffed grape leaves, bowls of fresh fruit with tangy yogurt for dipping.
The wedding cake was a masterpiece, a cheesecake dripping with blueberries and honey. Adia skipped most of her dinner so she’d have room for plenty of cake.
There were no formal toasts, no bride ‘kidnapping’ or bouquet tossing. No putting her or Caspar on the spot. There were plenty of congratulations, and time to spend talking with individual guests, which is what she liked best. Most of her friends and neighbors showed up, as did her lab colleagues and several of Caspar’s siblings. She had worried a little that some people might turn their noses up at the interspecies wedding, but it had been nothing but kind words and admiration, for both her and Caspar.
And, she supposed as she looked over the eclectic gathering, there was no reason to worry in the first place. The Cylons did not stay secluded from the other guests. In fact, many of the Cylons brought a human-plus-one to the reception. Caspar’s brother was sharing bites of cake with a striking redhead — one of the librarians, maybe? Julia was chatting up a shy young man who worked in Adia’s lab. And her Centurion friend had a human companion of its own, an older woman who was using a binary-to-common translator to communicate with it. Whatever it was saying to her was giving her the giggles.
And Caspar. Maybe it was the wine or the many compliments given on his suit, but even he had come out of his shell, mingling with the other guests and talking to people for more than thirty seconds at a time. It showed how far he had come — how far they had all come — and her heart swelled with pride over her people and their home.
A fiddler and an old man with a squeeze box began playing some lively tunes, and several couples took to the clearing to dance. Adia watched while she sipped from her glass of mead; she hadn’t wanted a first dance, not with so many people around, but she was happy to see others having a good time.
She wandered along the edge of the party, pausing at the memorial set up on an empty table. Framed photos of her parents and grandmother, of Caspar’s lost siblings. A candle lit to Hades, burning slowly. A small offering of food.
Would they have liked the wedding, too? She hoped so. Her mother would have liked the dancing. She would have been the first one on the floor, her father hanging back until cajoled into at least one slow dance.
She turned, blinking the sudden mist out of her eyes, and spotted Caspar heading towards her. She met him halfway, setting her glass aside so she could take both his hands and admire their matching rings.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at her softly. “There’s my wife. You want to dance?” She looked to the dance floor nervously, but he shook his head. “No, I know a better spot.” He winked. “Very exclusive.”
She giggled. “All right. I hope I’m dressed appropriately?” She looped her arm through his and let him lead her off, away from the party, into the woods where no one could see them. The late afternoon sunlight cut through the gloom of the forest, shafts of light dancing over them as they picked their way to a small clearing surrounded by old, towering pines.
It was lovely enough as it was, but when Caspar turned and faced her, the scene around them changed. She stepped into a projection of an ancient temple, pillars rising to a shimmering, gilded ceiling. The marble floor beneath them gleamed, and from all around them, a song began to play.
Caspar offered her a hand. “Mrs. Costas, may I have this dance?”
“You may, Mr. Costas.” She smiled at the way he lit up, a happy shiver passing through him as he took her into his arms. It had been his request, to take her last name, finding little worth in his own, a fake name tied to fake memories. She suspected he only kept ‘Caspar’ because he liked hearing her say it.
He gave her so much. It was no trouble to give him her last name in return.
They danced slow, close together, an intimate sway punctuated by the occasional twirl, the skirts of her dress sweeping gracefully against the polished floor. She let him lead, trusting him to keep her from stepping on his shoes or her hem, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes.
“What do you think?” he asked, as the song played its way through the bridge. “I wanted something elegant for our first dance as husband and wife.”
“It’s beautiful,” An idea took hold and she smiled in anticipation. “Although I think it needs one more thing…”
With only a moment’s concentration, she blinked into existence a rainfall of orange tulip petals. Like a shaken snow globe, they swirled around them, a burst of color in the otherwise sedate temple. Caspar stared at them a moment before laughing out loud and lifting her off her feet. He spun her around — once, twice — then set her back down as gently as the petals falling to the ground.
As the end of the song faded out into silence, he rested his forehead against hers, their dance ending in a simple embrace. She shut her eyes and let his steady breathing and arms around her become her entire world.
She was home.
