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zg_shadows2009-07-06 07:19 pm
lanfykins.livejournal.com) wrote in zg_shadows2009-07-06 07:19 pm
Not quite a normal Silver Fang wedding.
By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
My beloved spake, and said unto me, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
"The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone."
***
"Should I ask how you managed to get a biblical quote past the registrar?"
"Better not."
***
Her father's arm was steady beneath her own. He'd spent ten years thinking this moment would never come, and in the meantime had buried a wife, and a son, and a grandson; and, for four horrible months, a daughter as well. He was stooped a little now, and usually walked with a cane; but he was walking unaided today, with a dogged determination as if lives depended on it.
They stepped into the doorway to be greeted by the heady scent of the roses that climbed and trailed on each available surface (and Robin was careful, after, not to ask how she'd talked the registrar into allowing that, either). Ahead of them people turned, and Sulien blinked and saw, not as her father did, a room packed full of people a little taller and fitter and more attractive than most; but that among those who looked human, almost matching their number, stood people with hair of flame, or wings of translucent rainbow, or who bore antlers above their feathered hair, and that the window ledges were packed with tiny, fluttering sprites.
There were those there who were not invited; but there were none there who were enemies. That was enough. She dropped her gaze to the end of the aisle where Robin awaited her, his fair hair shining like precious metal in the sun slanting in through the windows, and for a moment it was only the touch of her father on her arm that prevented her striding over to join him, instead of this slow, interminable crawl between the chairs that seemed almost unbearable, so close to her goal.
Robin grinned at her, and she knew he'd read that thought, and smiled back. His face lit up with joy, the cares that had lined it these last seven years momentarily erased. Her father stopped and Robin reached out towards her, and she took three paces towards him and took his hands and gripped them as though she would never let go.
***
"Who gives this woman?"
"Don't look at me," her father grumbled good-naturedly and half the guests, those who had known Sulien longest, laughed.
Sulien waited patiently for the laughter to die down. "I give myself," she said firmly, and her eyes never left Robin's.
***
The moon rose to find them still dancing; the fae, having cast off their mortal countenances, danced in forms of fire and wind and fur that weaved in and out of the circles formed by Garou and kin, while others, wearied for now, passed between them cups of mead and whisky and plates of both hearty bread and meat and of fanciful sugary creations that melted on the tongue (and Robin had his suspicions about those, too).
Well... most of the fae. One fae still kept her mortal countenance, the face that her husband had seen first and loved best. She leaned into his embrace, stumbling slightly as she tried to ignore the pain lancing from her knee and stomach.
Their dance slowed, and stopped, as others moved on around them.
"I think I've had enough of all this company," Robin said with a slightly hopeful expression.
Sulien gave him a wry look, knowing that he'd noticed her limping. "Tired?" she asked him with gentle malice.
He grinned at her. "Not that tired."
"Good."
***
They were tired, and their lovemaking had been slow, and gentle; the love of two people who needed no tricks or novelties for fulfillment, but only the simple presence of one another.
Sulien lay with her fingers lightly twined with Robin's. Weariness and satiation dulled the aching in her scars, both the old and the new, and her eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs Trevelyan?" Robin asked idly.
"Have you got a penny?" she responded, her voice blurred with sleep.
"I could go and get one," he offered, not moving.
"Rather you didn't." She closed her eyes.
"Good. I'm doing something right." He lifted himself slightly on his elbow to regard her where she lay naked beside him, her skin glistening with sweat and her black hair splayed across the pillow. "Are you happy, Suli?" he asked quietly.
But she was already asleep.
***
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And kiss her lips, and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
My beloved spake, and said unto me, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
"The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone."
***
"Should I ask how you managed to get a biblical quote past the registrar?"
"Better not."
***
Her father's arm was steady beneath her own. He'd spent ten years thinking this moment would never come, and in the meantime had buried a wife, and a son, and a grandson; and, for four horrible months, a daughter as well. He was stooped a little now, and usually walked with a cane; but he was walking unaided today, with a dogged determination as if lives depended on it.
They stepped into the doorway to be greeted by the heady scent of the roses that climbed and trailed on each available surface (and Robin was careful, after, not to ask how she'd talked the registrar into allowing that, either). Ahead of them people turned, and Sulien blinked and saw, not as her father did, a room packed full of people a little taller and fitter and more attractive than most; but that among those who looked human, almost matching their number, stood people with hair of flame, or wings of translucent rainbow, or who bore antlers above their feathered hair, and that the window ledges were packed with tiny, fluttering sprites.
There were those there who were not invited; but there were none there who were enemies. That was enough. She dropped her gaze to the end of the aisle where Robin awaited her, his fair hair shining like precious metal in the sun slanting in through the windows, and for a moment it was only the touch of her father on her arm that prevented her striding over to join him, instead of this slow, interminable crawl between the chairs that seemed almost unbearable, so close to her goal.
Robin grinned at her, and she knew he'd read that thought, and smiled back. His face lit up with joy, the cares that had lined it these last seven years momentarily erased. Her father stopped and Robin reached out towards her, and she took three paces towards him and took his hands and gripped them as though she would never let go.
***
"Who gives this woman?"
"Don't look at me," her father grumbled good-naturedly and half the guests, those who had known Sulien longest, laughed.
Sulien waited patiently for the laughter to die down. "I give myself," she said firmly, and her eyes never left Robin's.
***
The moon rose to find them still dancing; the fae, having cast off their mortal countenances, danced in forms of fire and wind and fur that weaved in and out of the circles formed by Garou and kin, while others, wearied for now, passed between them cups of mead and whisky and plates of both hearty bread and meat and of fanciful sugary creations that melted on the tongue (and Robin had his suspicions about those, too).
Well... most of the fae. One fae still kept her mortal countenance, the face that her husband had seen first and loved best. She leaned into his embrace, stumbling slightly as she tried to ignore the pain lancing from her knee and stomach.
Their dance slowed, and stopped, as others moved on around them.
"I think I've had enough of all this company," Robin said with a slightly hopeful expression.
Sulien gave him a wry look, knowing that he'd noticed her limping. "Tired?" she asked him with gentle malice.
He grinned at her. "Not that tired."
"Good."
***
They were tired, and their lovemaking had been slow, and gentle; the love of two people who needed no tricks or novelties for fulfillment, but only the simple presence of one another.
Sulien lay with her fingers lightly twined with Robin's. Weariness and satiation dulled the aching in her scars, both the old and the new, and her eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion.
"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs Trevelyan?" Robin asked idly.
"Have you got a penny?" she responded, her voice blurred with sleep.
"I could go and get one," he offered, not moving.
"Rather you didn't." She closed her eyes.
"Good. I'm doing something right." He lifted himself slightly on his elbow to regard her where she lay naked beside him, her skin glistening with sweat and her black hair splayed across the pillow. "Are you happy, Suli?" he asked quietly.
But she was already asleep.
***
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And kiss her lips, and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.