Open Log

[angel-aria.livejournal.com]

When; Sunday the 17th; 2 PM
Rating; PG-13 for surprise stuff.
Characters; All of those invited to the wedding. When posting, put "To {insert person's name here}" in the subject line so as not to cause confusion and utter chaos, as fun as that is.
Summary; It's a wedding, omg.
Log;


The cathedral echoed with the whispers of the small group of guests that had been invited. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, making the stone floor glow in a variety of colors. The pews were decorated with roses, and white ribbon cascaded along the walls. It was a beautiful sight, and as Christine peeked through the door, she wished she had a photographer there to take a photograph, but she knew that the image had already burned itself into her memory.

Her thoughts drifted for a moment to her wedding with Raoul, and how, even though it was a very happy occasion, she had wished that it was her father that had walked down the aisle, and not Raoul's. She shook her head, going over to the mirror on the wall to check her hair once again. She didn't want to think about that. If she thought about the life she had left behind, she would be sad, and she wanted to be happy.

'Christine? It's almost time.' She turned to see her father adjusting his dress coat. He had certainly been cleaned up since she had first found him in The Shackled Bride, and looked quite dashing. His face brightened as he saw his daughter in her wedding dress. It was a bit strange and unlike the fashion in their world, but it was beautiful.

'You look lovely, dearest,' he said, approaching her.

'Merci, papa,' Christine thanked him, smiling. 'I'm very excited and happy.'

'Are you? I have noticed your sighings,' he added quickly. 'I know your mind drifts to the family you left behind.' He held out his arms. 'Come here, mai ange.' Christine moved closer to him, and let her father give her a tight hug. 'You know my feelings for Erik; I have not hid them from you, but I would not upset you for any reason. I have been here for God knows how long, and not a day goes by that I do not think of your mother and miss her so. I am able to tolerate this place, but I am not happy.

'Christine...if you can be happy in this City, you shouldn't stop yourself. Love this man like I know he loves you, and do not be sad. You have happy memories of Raoul, oui?' She nodded. 'Remember the good times, and do not mourn over what is lost,' Gustave continued. 'Embrace happiness. And remember, Christine....I will always love you. You will always be my daughter.' His hug tightened.

'I know, papa. I love you too.' She hugged him tightly, trying to hold back tears. Her father had managed to comfort her where no one else could. They drew apart and he kissed her forehead. She smiled, and went over to the door to peek in on the chapel again.

Comments

[angel-aria.livejournal.com]

Gustave gave Erik a curt nod, and reluctantly squeezed his daughter's arm one last time before slowly letting her leave his grasp. It was like it was done in slow motion, and the muscles in his jaw clenched so as to keep himself from letting the tears flow. She was his little girl, and he had never thought this far ahead in the future...when he was dying, he hadn't thought he would ever see this day come. He supposed he should be happy, but a part of him just couldn't. She was his daughter, his little girl...

Regardless, he stepped away to the right, watching the pair, and giving Erik a fierce look that clearly read: Break her heart and I will kill you. As the last chords of music echoed off into memory, he sat down with the rest of the guests, wishing for a brief moment that his wife was there to see this sight with him.

Christine couldn't stop smiling, and she held the bouquet of roses that a Miss Rukia had given her tightly, as if they were the only things keeping her from soaring off into the sky with the elation of happiness that she was feeling. The priest had begun to speak, but his words reached empty air. She felt that there was only Erik and herself, no one else, in the entire world.

The prick of a thorn on one of her fingers made her gasp softly in surprise, but the priest kept droning on about eternity, and being there for one another, God, Jesus Christ, and other sorts of nonsense that never means anything to the bride and groom. She lifted her finger to nurse the wound for a moment, but not before a drop of scarlet blood fell onto the white roses.

She nursed it for only a moment, and returned her hand to the bouquet, waiting for the moment when the priest would tell them that they could make their wedding vows.

[velated-v.livejournal.com]

Music had always been a large part of V's life, but playing it publicly had seemed odd to him.
But as a gift, well, that was something else entirely, and it was clever of Evey to present it to him in such a way, for now he felt almost...happy to be able to give something of the sort to two people who could not deserve it more on such a personally momentous occasion.

Thankfully the organ loft was secluded, so he was able to remove his gloves and play the piece as he prefferred, now as he stepped down from the stairs leading up to the loft, he replaced the familiar leather over his hands, and silently moved through down the aisle to the seat Evey had saved for him, marked out with his cloak layed across it.
Not wishing to disturb the preceedings, he sat quickly, and took Evey's hand...then noticed lovelly rose in her other hand where it lay in her lap.
He was puzzled for a moment, for he couldn't remember her leaving their home with such a bloom, nor where she would have later aquired it, but for the moment said nothing, and turned his attention to the ceremony at hand.

((OOC: sorry for delay!))

[ever-evey.livejournal.com]

When V returned from the organ loft, she sent him a brilliant smile and gave him a small squeeze when his hand found his. It would be utterly inappropriate to lean over and whisper that he'd done a marvelous job, and so her silent approval would have to do.

In truth, though, she was proud of him--not only for playing the piece so beautifully but for doing it despite his reticence to perform outside their underground home. There would be time to tell him as much later, though, and she had enough sense to hold her tongue while the ceremony was going on.

She rubbed a thumb over the velvety petals of the rose in her hand as the service continued. It had been handed to her as she'd entered the chapel--and while it was quite beautiful, Evey couldn't fathom why it had been given to her.

At the moment, though, the flower was nothing more than an idle distraction for her hand; her mind was fully on the wedding ceremony.