hadriel_logs | what is love? [OPEN/CLOSED]

Orange and reds adorn the nature scene. Scents of smoke and burnt wood mix with dirt and plantlife around the park summon a small crowd of people. Some faces recognizable, others Rey have never seen before in her life, yet seem oddly familiar. She just can't place where she's met them before. Holiday dinners? Vacation? That's silly; they've never even left town before, have they?

Rey tries not to think about it. Once she's been fitted into the flowing, ornate dress that fades into a fiery pattern, it's almost like the deal has been sealed. But it's been that way for a long time, hasn't it? It has since the moment she said 'yes', since she allowed this whole farce to continue, for not stopping it sooner.

Her gut churns at the thought of it being what it is. A farce.

Marcus Sullivan is late when he eventually gets there, but shortly after remains to be unseen. Some sad, desperate part of her had hoped that he wouldn't come at all. That this wouldn't be put on her. The orange, red, and yellow flowers have all been arranged, the tables and decorations set, and people have begun taking chairs where they have already been arranged or freely seated. They're already here. She can't just change her mind now, can she?

"Your dress is beautiful" some have told her.

"Must be nice, marrying a captain" outsiders have said, ignorant to the fact that Rey herself might be a lower ranking officer, and not just the fiancée of one. They can't know that, she tells herself as she tries to smile and dismiss their comments, just wanting them to leave her alone.

And they do. She seeks refuge in a covered park gazebo, where other women she barely knew had done her getup. She should be happy when she sees herself: Hair done up, dress shining in the light. She feels like she is nearing the curtain call of a movie, and she feels sick.

The invitation tightens in her fingers as she slides into a chair. The women buzzing about the gazebo interior have allowed her a rare moment of solitude, where Rey stares down at the cursive lettering on the card her mother had made for her.

Undine and Nick Valentine
request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter

The card had been made months ago. Her mother was still alive then. Hell, they were still alive when they had been shipped out.

Placing the invitation on her lap, her fingers trace across her mother's name. Her heart aches, longing to be anywhere but here.

It's a big day; it's a rough day.

Nick has a lot on his mind as he looks himself over in the mirror, trying to make himself at least marginally presentable. It's not every day he's at a wedding, and definitely not every day that he gets to give away the bride. He's never really thought much of grand ceremonies and all the hullabaloo that goes on around them, but this isn't his party. It's Rey's, and while he couldn't be happier for her, he's still feeling weighed down by his own regrets. He pulls on the jacket of his tuxedo, then straightens the ring on his left hand.

He does that bit with a sigh. She wanted her to be here so badly. They both did.

But for as much as Undine is on his mind, he knows she's definitely on Rey's. The woman was her real mother, after all, not just a secondhand parent like he is. Still, despite that he and Rey aren't blood relations, they grow closer every day. They were even before Undine's death; hell, even before the marriage, he'd been trying to be some kind of a father for her, someone she could count on. They had to count on each other now; they're all they have.

Well, not for long, not as soon as the wedding is over and everything is made all official. There's something about that finality that has been a real point of contention with Rey lately, especially with the grief over her mother's death. While Nick would rather she turned to him than bury herself in the bottom of a liquor bottle, he can't say he doesn't feel it, too. He's had a lot of long nights just walking the empty streets, remembering the places he used to go with Undine. They'd sit on the front porch and just listen to the night all around them, walk hand-in-hand in the park and talk about the merits of robotics, steal kisses in the streetlights by the riverside.

Another sigh. Even thinking of the good times was hard when they were so heavy with sorrow, with remorse. There was so much he still wanted to say to her, things he's sure she knew, but now she'll never hear. They say time heals all wounds, but he's not sure this one is ever going to get any easier -- not for him, and not for Rey.

He straightens his tie as he spots Rey in the gazebo. Despite the activity buzzing all around them, she's found a moment alone. She looks like she needs it -- he knows that expression she wears, recognizes the invitation in her hands. Maybe it's not just Undine on her mind. That's why he goes over, his thumb rubbing idly at his wedding ring as he stops before her.

"You mind if I join you?" Nick asks quietly.

Edited 2017-07-23 09:48 (UTC)

Her heart lifts as she hears Nick's voice coming from the gazebo entrance. It's a sobering one to hear, after dealing with the many words of congratulations and niceties of strangers and vaguely familiar faces. Which has been... strange, feeling as though she knew these people, and yet were complete strangers at the same time. Even Sully, the man she's supposedly to spend the rest of her life with, seems like a ghost.

But not Nick. Not her father, who her mother had always spoken fondly of since before the day they married as well. Rey has some blurry memories of that day. Of bearing both the flowers and rings her parents exchanged. They had her blessing and, more importantly, her love that day.

Despite the dress dragging her down, Rey is quick to rise to her feet, throwing her arms around Nick's neck when he enters.

"Of course not," she says breathlessly, as if she had been running an emotional marathon -- which, by all counts, she has. She fights the tears in her eyes as she rests her chin over his shoulder. "It's good to see you."

Much as she's been trying to hold herself together all these years, in all this time, she can't help but feel as though she needs Nick now more than ever. To hear his blessing in light of this day.

"It's good to see you, too."

Nick returns that embrace readily, though he's careful where he puts his arms, doing his damnedest to not catch a cufflink on her dress or one of his joints in her hair. He'd hate to ruin all the hard work the ladies put into getting her gussied up for her big day. And yet, he can tell there's something amiss anyway. Maybe it's the old cop instincts, or maybe it's the father in him coming to the forefront, but Nick can tell there's more on her mind than just the wedding and who oughtta be there, but isn't.

He pushes out a sigh, his arms tightening on her as Undine crosses his mind. It's only been a few weeks since she passed; he still expects her to be waiting by the front door for him to come home, but there are times it feels like an eternity since he heard her voice. It's got to be worse for Rey, he's told himself time and time again. As much as he loved her, Undine was her mother. It's up to him to hold it together -- Rey has other things to worry about.

Finally pulling from her, Nick gives Rey a look-over and a smile. "Guess we both clean up nice. I'll be honest in that I wasn't sure this old thing would fit anymore, but I guess it's good for one more day."

Not that a man like him could outgrow a suit, but he figures that tuxedo of his is worth making light of.

Rey does her best to force a smile as Nick pulls back. She's practically gotten this down to an art. All day she has been exchanging smiles and polite words. But it's different when it's Nick. Her father -- or the man she has long since come to call her father, having never had one to call her own before. Despite this, it's been nice. She can't think of a better person suited for the role.

"I'll say." She smirks as she adjusts his tie. If nothing else, she uses it as an effective excuse to avoid eye contact. "Think it's still got a few more runs left."

Or so she hopes. Not sure why. It's not like she plans to have any other big events such as this, but in her line of work, you never know.

Still, it's nice to see Nick spruced up. He could stand to do it more.

Nick knows that smile when he sees it -- the part where she avoids his eyes, too. He lets her fiddle with his tie, fixing it in a way he never quite manages to do with that metal hand of his. It's something her mother used to do for him, too.

He cocks his head to the side, his brow knitting. "Hey," he says quietly, low enough that no one passing by should hear them. "Talk to me, Rey."

Her fingers freeze on the fabric of his tie, having fiddled with it a little longer for the sake of keeping her focus on anything but the present. She's supposed to be happy, isn't she? And yet at the same time, she wants nothing more than to be miles away from this gazebo, from this part. From this reality.

Rey continues staring at that tie, seconds after Nick speaks. She wants to dismiss his concerns -- that's what ever fiber of her instincts are screaming. But she can't lie.

"I... I don't know what I'm doing," she blurts, a distant cloud veiling her expression that should be joyous, and yet remains devoid of it.

A quiet breath escapes Nick, one he didn't need, but took all the same. He could say a lot about not knowing what the hell to do when it comes to getting married -- the ceremony he had with Undine wasn't any big affair, but there was enough paperwork involved that he'd prefer to never go through it again. He's not sure he could, anyway. His heart probably couldn't take the inevitable end.

"I don't think a lot of folks know what they're doing when it comes to all the pomp and circumstance of a wedding, Rey," he says solemnly, placing his bare hand atop hers at his tie. "What's on your mind?"

Somehow, Rey remembers that affair. She was there, and she also wasn't. How does that even make sense...?

"Maybe."

There's more to it than simple cold feet, though. Everyone gets that, or they're supposed to. That's what she's heard, anyway. That giddy sense of anticipation. She should be feeling that, but there's only emptiness at the end of this road.

That fake smile fades away into a somber frown. "This... None of this. It doesn't feel real. Right. I don't--" She stops herself, scratching her forehead. "I don't know. Maybe it's just... Maybe I'm making excuses."

Nick's smile fades with Rey's, his expression lacing with concern as he watches her own features shift with uncertainty. "Maybe," he starts, his hand still atop hers. "Things have been off for a while now for both of us. Everything happened so fast with the wedding, and your mother..."

But even he's felt something is more amiss than that: it's been in the air in town for a week now, hanging over all of them like a coming storm. He dismissed that feeling at first, sure it was just grief still settling into his metal bones; however, the longer it's gone on, the more he can't shake the old instincts telling him that something is wrong.

It's not just vague feelings, either -- from the corner of his eye on his delivery route, he's sure he's seen rundown buildings that ought not be there, only for them to be as good as new when he looks their way. He's struggled with his memory lately, forgetting the faces of people he's supposedly known for years. There was even a day he strayed from his usual path around town and patrolled on the southern end, far from the usual places he goes... and yet, it felt so familiar, like he ought to be there.

He figured he'd deal with all that was bothering him after the wedding, but now that Rey brings it up, he can't help but feel that odd sense of paranoia gnawing at him once again.

"Maybe you are just nervous," he continues, "but I can't say you've ever struck me as the type to let that stop you. I might not be a cop anymore, but I still believe it's important to listen to your gut when it's trying to tell you something."

The mention of her mother sends her heart sinking in her chest. She doesn't hold it against Nick for bringing Undine up; he misses her as well. Though she might've been Rey's mother, he loved the woman all the same, too.

Her lips twitch at what Nick has to say. "That sounds like something you'd say," she jests, but there is some sincerity there as well.

Joking aside, Rey lowers her eyes to their hands. Her fingers squeeze his.

"This is... going to sound weird. But have you ever, um. Loved someone? Other than my mom? Before her, that is."

There's no doubt that Undine was the only woman in his life during their marriage; that isn't what's on her mind when she asks such a thing from him. It's just that there is someone, who seems more real to her than any of this.

It wouldn't be that odd of a question for someone else, someone who wasn't mechanical. Even now, it doesn't strike Nick as odd as it really should, save for the timing, but while he gets that inkling in his mind that there is something off about this whole thing, he can't put a finger on the reason why. He'll blame the wedding for now, the obvious choice; it will only be after he comes to his senses and realizes this idyllic life is just more of the gods' nonsense that he'll remember why it is he feels so apart from most of the people in Hadriel.

"Before her, yeah," he answers; there's a flicker of regret in his eyes that clearly says he doesn't want to talk about it -- not today, of all days. "It was a long time ago, before I met either one of you. Well before I knew your mom was the one for me."

His brow knits again as he squeezes Rey's hand. "Why? What's this all about?"

He shouldn't ask -- his instincts tell him not to, but he goes against them this time, hoping that putting it into words will help Rey sort out what's going on in her head. She's had moments like these for as long as he can remember; whatever is on her mind, he's there for her. They've got to be there for each other now -- Undine would have wanted that, and Nick wouldn't want it any other way, either.

A long time ago. That's what it feels like now, with Sully. Like a distant memory that has long since lost its relevance. Nick is different, though. Nick is real, like Maketh. Rey can reach out and touch him, feel his hand tighten around her own, even if it's synthetic and not at all human. And that's okay; Undine loved him anyway. For who he is.

So why does that also feel like a detached memory? Rey's eyes narrow, and she'd rather not think about it, because that's her mother. The woman who had looked after her since the day she was born. Who had made a union with the man before her to do the same, so long as they lived.

Now one of them is gone, and yet she's still grateful to the one who remains.

Rey bites her lower lip, glancing away from Nick's concerned gaze for the moment.

"I..." She sucks in a breath, ducking her head. "Don't worry about it."

Futile that it might be, for both of them.

Telling Nick don't worry about it is a guaranteed way to get him to do just that, especially when those words are coming from his only family. Maybe it's cold feet, the type folks usually get when they're about to take a step into the deep end that is married life. It's not for everyone, and hell, not all goes well even for folks who think they are as prepared as they can be.

Then again, maybe it's something else. Nick feels in his gut that it is, but he can't place why. Maybe the old instincts are getting rusty, or maybe he's just a sentimental fool who's worried for his daughter on her big day, one where she's surrounded by everyone she loves, save for one notable absence.

Everyone she loves, though... hm. He doesn't like where his mind goes with that tangential thought -- that's definitely the cop in him getting anxious about that rust, for sure.

"Hey."

He puts his metal hand against her chin, tilting her face upward in the hopes she will meet his eyes.

"If there's something really bothering you about all this" — he cocks his head to the side, toward where final preparations are being made for the ceremony — "and you want to call it off for now, it's okay. It's been a hard time for both of us, and you only oughtta go through with this if you're good and ready, and that's if you're ever ready. Whatever the reason is, I'm on your side, Rey. You know that, don't you?"

The irony that someone like Rey would get cold feet isn't lost to her, and not far from her train of thought. And soon as she tries to cast her eyes away out of the shame that wraps around her heart, Nick's pulling her gaze back towards him. She struggles to maintain contact, and to hold herself together. After all, a lot of effort had gone into getting her dolled up like this. The last thing she wants to do is ruin...

No, it isn't the last thing she wants. That's such a stupid thought. Stupid. Pointless. Stop it.

"She... went through so much for this," Rey painfully admits, though a niggling voice on the back of her mind tells her that there's more to it than that. "She did so much for me and I don't even know why. She's not here; I can't ask her why."

Her memories of Sully are so muddy that she can't figure out even the littlest details. When did they meet? Did Undine really like him, or did she even exist...?

Such a mere passing thought makes her chest ache with fear, as she snaps her mouth shut. This is more than just 'cold feet' now, that is certain.

"You don't know why?" Nick asks, puzzled. He gives her a reassuring smile. "Because you're her daughter, Rey. She loved you more than anything else in the world, and no matter how much work she put into this wedding, I can guarantee she'd rather you be happy."

But it does strike him as beyond odd that she'd even say such a thing. Undine was Rey's mother; of course she'd have done anything for her, desite—

... despite what?

Nick's brow tightens just a fraction. Undine was absolutely Rey's mother, no question about it... then why did he question it just then? Why was there even a second of doubt in his mind, as though it'd have been reasonable for Undine to hold something against Rey, but chose not to? It must be something wrong with his processor, Nick insists inwardly, his memories not connecting in his head. Did something happen between Rey and Undine? Or was it between himself and Undine?

There's a flash of a memory he can't place, an image that's there for only an instant -- the riverside, blood in the water, a gunshot that rings in his ears. He'd say it came from a nightmare, but he doesn't sleep; he doesn't dream.

Not that he knows of.

Aware of his moment of distraction, he tightens his grip on Rey's hand, focusing on her to bring himself back to the present.

It should be so obvious, and yet the answers are muddied in her mind. Like everything else, it's been hard to think clearly. Think outside of the scope of her goal. Right now, that goal happens to be at the end of an aisle...

The squeeze of Nick's hand around hers grounds Rey as well, trying to keep herself focused on what is happening now.

"I am happy," Rey says with a strained smile.

Maybe not with the event itself, but it was done out a labor of love. The last thing her mother ever prepared for her. Though Undine passed just weeks before this day, she at least has the closest thing to a father she's ever had to be here with her, and that makes her happy.

Rey says she's happy, but that strained smile of hers says something else entirely, something he can't just blame on prenuptial jitters. She might be happy to have him there, but if he had to guess, she's not happy about much else at the moment.

And that's ultimately worrying. This wedding had a lot of love put into it by Undine in her final days, but Rey is the one who has to go through with it. She's the one who the day is really about -- not Undine. Nick has no doubt her mother would agree... but Rey's never been the type to put herself first. Undine knew it, Nick knows it -- hell, anyone who has seen how hard she works knows it. Even her husband-to-be probably knows.

"If you say so," he replies, giving her hand another squeeze as he gets ready to go. He doesn't release it quite yet.

"I've got to get back and make sure things are going all right with the preparations, but... if you're having second thoughts about all this, you know your mother would come back to haunt us both if you went through with it anyway, just for her sake."

Curufin leaves work, double-checks the invitation to be sure of the time the event is supposed to start, dresses in his best, and hurries to Pleasant Park. He runs his hand through his unruly hair and gives his bow-tie a last tweak before he gets out of the car.

He looks around for Rey, making a fast circuit of the park, and he spots the bride in her finery sitting in the gazebo, gazing at the card in her hand. There is an expression of ineffable longing on her face.

He looks around. He doesn't see any of the bridesmaids, or for that matter, the bridegroom. He has a slightly uneasy feeling, and he doesn't know for sure where it is coming from. But he knows Rey, a longtime firefighter who has his respect, both for her courage and professionalism and on her own account, as a person of integrity. When they were both in high school but before he joined the Army, he had fantasies of being in her profession, but instead he took a completely different career path. He admires her for making the choice that she did and following through with it. He approaches.

"Rey, you're looking very beautiful. But. . . a little soulful. How are you doing?" His voice and his face are warm and sympathetic.

Edited 2017-07-23 10:03 (UTC)

Despite wanting some alone time, there is something inviting about Curufin. Not just because he isn't one of the bridesmaids of bustling wedding planners or attendants around, but he doesn't seem... fake. Like a prop on a movie set. Or something of the like. Just as Nick is, he feels real. Here.

It does call for some interesting questions, such as the nature of Rey herself. Is she here? Who's to say that she is real at all? How can she be certain one way or another?

"Could be worse."

That's... not something you're supposed to say just hours before your wedding, is it?

That question of what is real and who is real is complex enough to puzzle even an Elvish seer. Which Curufin is not. He's just an Elvish craftsman. But he does ask those same questions, and they sometimes baffle him as well. Rey is such a credible person that he feels comfortable asking the important questions in her presence, especially if they concern her.

"Oh. . . I'm sure it could be worse," he answers. "A rock from outer space could come careening down and reduce your gazebo to rubble and the town to a smoking crater!" He smiles. "But things don't have to be that bad to be. . . a little troublesome. Is something troubling you?"

At that, Rey barks out a sound that resembles a laugh. It's harsh, though, devoid of the joy that one should be expressing on such a day.

"Troublesome. Right," she halfheartedly agrees as she runs a hand down her face with a sigh. "I... don't know, though. This just doesn't feel like the way things should be."

Not just the wedding, but reality as a whole.

Oh, that laugh. The sound of trouble.

"What isn't the way it should be?" he asks.

Not that he doesn't have an intimation of unreality himself. He's happy in his life here, for the most part, but he's restless and he keeps having dreams and imaginary conversations with his brother Maglor about the sea. If Rey is having vague intimations that something should be different, he is going to be listening closely. You betcha.

Everything and nothing. Despite playing all the possible answers in her head, not a one comes to mind that's in any way satisfactory. She just brings her hand to her chin, trying not to mess up her appearance before the actual event.

Thing is, Rey should be happy. Weddings are supposed to be joyous events, and she has happy memories of a loving family and a childhood where she is cherished. And yet, for some reason, she can't help but feel melancholy. Not because of the loss of her mother, but because it all feels so far away where happiness is unattainable.

"All of this." The words blurt out before she can think about what they mean, and her mouth tightens into a thin line.

She means it, doesn't she?

She sounds like she means it.

"All of it?" He nods. There is no denial in his tone, only acknowledgement. Yes, weddings should be happy, and yet, Rey is not happy.

There is something in the air. No, even more than that. It is something that is everywhere.

"Have you ever. . . felt as though all of this. . . " He gestures to everything around them, the park, the gazebo, the surrounding town, the green hills into which the town is nestled, the very sky with its dreamy wisps of cirrus cloud. ". . . is not, well, real? As though it were a backdrop curtain on a stage, or a stage set in a movie? And found yourself wondering what would be there if you tore it away, or down?"

Time warps beyond all meaning. The morning came and went faster than it had any right to, and now it slows to a grinding halt.

She should be happy when she sees Sully at the end of the aisle, dressed sharp with their fellow colleagues presented on either side of the altar. The priest standing there with his black book in hand is both familiar and alien, like someone she has never met before, yet has seen on previous nights during rehearsals. Sully as well, when he pulls her veil, gracing her with that charming smile that she is only fond of but can't quite place how long they had been together, where they had their first dates, or when the last time he even kissed her was.

People are supposed to like weddings. Rey thought she did. She enjoyed her parents', from what she can remember of it. But there was love there, and with Sully...

The groom isn't a bad person. The opposite, in fact. She just can't think of how Sully's proposal went. What did he do?

Before she knows it, the words "...so long as you both shall live?" makes their way into her ears, snapping Rey from her trance. She blinks, eyes darting from her hands that Sully has taken into his own, where he's trying to present the ring to her. It's a simple gift. Plain gold, no diamonds. Nothing fancy, just how she wants it.

Except this isn't what she wants. Her brows furrow as she looks up at him, and then the priest. The shift warps, blurring their faces for only a moment. "What did you just say?"

His face reddens, eyes narrowed behind those half-moon glasses as he recites the words again.

They continue like clockwork, acting more as if coming from a script than anything genuine between the bride and groom.

"If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married," the priest finally says, "speak now or forever hold your peace."

For a moment, Rey wonders if that was actually part of their routine. She can't recall such a line being said at her mother's ceremony. It seems like such a silly thing to say; something that only exists for a narrative convenience.

"Ah..." Rey starts, her mouth slightly agape. Her head is spinning. She hears her mother's voice, echoing in the back of her mind. Only... maybe it isn't her mother?

Sully graces her with a concerned expression, forehead knitted and eyes soft. "Fiona?"

Fiona? Who's Fiona? Why did he say that name...?

"Fiona, are you okay?" His hands squeeze hers, pulling her towards him. She's angry now. She hates it when he does this. Treats her like some fragile piece of glass that'll break if he doesn't handle her with care.

"I don't... know... who..."

This time, her own complexion flushes, as she feels all eyes on her.

And she wants nothing more than to just shrink.

Edited 2017-07-24 21:49 (UTC)

She's dressed herself carefully, a plain blue dress and flats, hair hanging loose down her back. The sort of thing Emily would approve of - has, in fact, helped to create. The dress is perfectly presentable, her hair pinned and hanging just so. Nothing is out of place. And yet--

It's not supposed to be like this.

She sees Rey, in the veil, looking lost and--

"Wait."

She stands. Her voice is sharp and clear.

"Rey! Is this what you want?"

Many heads turn as Maketh makes herself known. The abruptness of her speech and the timing should have made this an awkward moment.

Not for Rey, though. Hearing her name just then sends a wave of relief rippling through her. She doesn't call her Fiona, a ghost's name -- but her own. And, strange as it is, feels natural. Just as things had always been between them.

It occurs to Rey that she hasn't said anything. The quiet becomes deafening, the ringing screaming in her hot ears and dizzying her brain. While her eyes remain locked on the ceremony's intruder, she can feel the perplexed stare of Sully next to her.

"Um."

"Fiona? What's going on?" Sully finally asks.

"Isn't that Officer Tua?" comes a hushed whisper from the crowd, among many others that it's difficult to distinguish one from another.

Rey begins to feel sweat on the back of her neck. She doesn't know. She doesn't know what she wants anymore, if she ever did at all.

But Maketh looks really beautiful right now. Then again, she always has. It's a feeling she never experienced whenever she saw Sully. Because one feels real and the other is fake. Isn't he?

Though she doesn't speak, her silence speaks volumes.

Strangely, she's not afraid. Up until a moment ago, Maketh had felt uneasy and out of place. A stranger among these people she ought to know. But among the crowd, only Rey feels simple. Rey is exactly how she ought to be, except for this moment is wrong.

Maketh straightens her shoulders. Stands up tall.

"This isn't right. You know that."

This isn't right. Those words echo in her brain like a war drum, and suddenly her head is pounding.

Sully's face screws with concern. He reaches for her, but Rey steps back. She rubs her temple, brows scrunched together while the eyes of many, both strange and familiar, are watching.

Ears burning, she shakes her head. When she thinks of her mother, of all the effort and love she had put into this, or at least the memories she has of those moments, she starts to see them as something else. Something that can't quite be explained with a ceremony and an 'I do'.

God, what is she doing here?

With not a care about the makeup, the dolled up hair, or any of the other evidence of labor she bears, she drags her hand down her face, eyes reddening.

"Can't do this. Sorry," she tells Sully and, reluctant, steps away from him.

He looks confused. Reaches out to her. "Fio--"

The word is cut shut by her shoving his hand away, as she turns down the aisle she walked in from, gasping as if the oxygen from the atmosphere just started sapping from out of her lungs.

Maketh goes to her without thinking, putting her hand on Rey's arm. It's always been Rey to her, never that other name that everyone else is whispering, scandalized (Fiona, Fiona, Fiona). It doesn't matter. It's not real. It's not supposed to go like this. She knows it with bone-deep certainty. Maketh shivers. Lifts her head high.

If there's fear, she doesn't feel it.

"Let's get out of here."

It shouldn't mean anything, and yet Maketh's touch means everything. Her breath steadies then, like she is calm. Made the right choice.

Yes. This is how it's supposed to end.

Out the corner of her eye, she sees Sully. Standing there quietly. There's no expression of judgement or anger. Just nonplussed, but he shrugs without making such a fuss. Something about that seems familiar. That ready dismissive demeanor of his. Rey doesn't dwell on it much.

She turns her attention back to Maketh. She wants nothing more than to get out of there...

But first--

Pulling her arm back to bring Maketh closer, Rey only has to incline forward. Just a little. Pressing her lips to the other woman's.

It's something that she's wanted to do for a long, long time. She doesn't care about the reaction from the crowd, from her fiancé down the aisle. None of that matters to her right now.

Right now is what matters.

"Let's go," she agrees, smiling her first real smile that day.

Taking Maketh's hand, Rey goes to pull them both out of the ceremony, now a cacophony of murmurs.

They kiss. They kiss and it's not fireworks or world ending joy, but it feels right. Maketh takes a breath. Lets it go. And nods.

"C'mon."

She kicks off her heels so she can follow. She thinks she'd follow Rey just about anywhere, now.

It feels right are the thoughts on Rey's mind as she pushes her way through the park, not looking back to see the confused faces or varied responses from the guests.

Because yes, yes this is indeed happening.

And if it's one thing that Rey is certain of, there is more to come.

Nightfall comes by the hour they arrive at the local church. The quiet after the bustles and whispers and background noise at the park's scene is by far a welcome one, in which Rey is more than grateful to be rid of. Maybe it's the crowd and strange faces that troubled her, or the fact that the man trying to put the ring on her finger seemed too much of a ghost. Something about it all crawled under her skin, and even now she feels sick thinking about it. The only thing that disrupts the nervous haze in her mind is the giddy fluttering in her chest as she reaches for the door leading to the church foyer.

Locked. For now, at least. It doesn't take long for Rey to figure out how to fix that, however, with just a couple pins that had been placed in her hair. The neat and clean style that had kept her hair back falls down and curls around her neck; a minor inconvenience to her as she figures out how to undo the pesky latch keeping them locked out of the structure. It's almost ironic, seeing herself partake in the petty crime of breaking and entering a place of worship in front of a police officer. However, a little felony doesn't deter either of them.

Once the door opens, Rey parts ways with Maketh, if only momentarily when she makes her way into the back room. There, she finds the town priest collapsed on the couch of his own office, a stench of alcohol wafting from the empty bottles nearby. Fully aware of Carlisle's... habits, Rey only offers the drunk priest a few prods to the face in order to rouse him from his slumber.

"Hey." She pokes him again. "Hey, hey."

Poke-poke.

"Rise and shine."

It's midnight wedding time.

Edited 2017-08-05 20:06 (UTC)

Now that the madness has actually been done, it feels less like madness and more like the inevitable conclusion of a successful operation. None of it was planned, none of it was rehearsed, and yet Maketh feels no regret. No part of her second-guesses this.

It feels inevitable now that it's been done. The easiest thing in the world.

She follows Rey silently, standing in the doorway. She doesn't know Carlisle well. It's possible he won't react well.

Nonetheless, this part too will be done. It's been decided.

"Hello, Carlisle."

Carlisle doesn't stir from the first poke or two; however, once he does open his eyes, 'not reacting well' would be putting it lightly. The clergyman is simply startled at first as Rey rouses him from his sleep -- his eyes crack open and he sits up, looking as dazed as a man who might have napped through an appointment.

"Wh- what? What is it? What time—"

His voice dies as he looks to the window; it's dark outside. They dart back to the women, but stop midway on the bottles -- evidence of his shame -- littered all over the floor.

And there comes the guilt. He stumbles to his feet, which knock into some of the bottles, causing them to roll and clink together as he tries to straighten his vestments.

"Oh! Oh ah- sorry sorry sorry. I just- th-th-this is nothing! Nothing, just. A mess. Just a mess. Unrelated to anything, really. Was doing some cleaning and found these old things just- just lying about. Need to dispose of them, that's all. What can, ah."

He adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his disheveled hair to smooth it as he recognizes the two who've barged into his office in the dead of the night.

"Ah, Miss Rey. And um. Officer Tua, I believe? Weren't- weren't you getting married today?"

He asks that of Rey; he has no idea that's why they're there.

For having the evidence of his shame riddled across the floor, Rey doesn't care about any of that. She's quite nonchalant, actually, about the fact that she's committed a felony herself, and in front of a police officer, no less. Whether that says something about herself or her situation, and just how insane this all is, who can say for certain.

Right now, she really doesn't give a shit.

"Well, funny that you should mention that..."

Funny because Rey just happens to still be in her wedding garb. She's cut up the lower part of her dress during her and Maketh's escape from the park, not lamenting the tattered remnants of her fancy, overly priced attire. Fortunately, it was her (now ex-)fiancé who dropped the cash on such a thing than her mother, otherwise she would have taken more care with the extravagant dress. Her mother had passed before they could decide on what she should wear, after all, so she was alone in that department.

Not anymore, though. For once, she feels confident in that she is doing something she feels is right. It helps her sort out her thoughts. She can't afford hesitation and second-thinking now. "We need a favor," she calmly tells him.

Maketh abandons the doorway to stand next to Rey. It's important to do this properly, and to commit fully.

Deliberately, she takes Rey's hand in hers.

"Someone will be married, yes."

"Oh."

That initial response is immediate, said in an oh, that's nice sort of fashion rather than one of comprehension. It's a second later as Carlisle's eyes trail down to their entwined hands that he realizes just what that favor they need is, and who he's doing it for.

"Oh. Oh, th- that's what- ah." The clergyman tugs at his collar nervously, his gaze flicking back to the ladies before him, meeting their faces with polite trepidation. "I- I suppose I could accommodate you in the morning, if you'd like to, ah. Come back and make an appointment for a proper ceremony."

Rey's shoulders jump when Maketh takes her hand; an instinctive reaction when her heart skips at the unexpected but pleasant feeling. It helps, emboldening her to do what she wants to do.

She shakes her head at Carlisle's last comment. "No, don't want a 'proper' ceremony. Want this done -- just us."

Now.

"Sorry if this is short notice."

"Marry us," Maketh says softly. She could give it as an order, but that wouldn't be right. And she wants to do this part right. "Please."

Carlisle's eyes go from Rey to Maketh, and back again.

"Er... right. Well." He wrings his hands together, his lips pulled into an apprehensive grin. "I suppose I could, ah. Get the papers ready tomorrow." Emphasis on that last word. He slides away from them toward his desk, rifling through the cabinet beside it until he finds what he's looking for: a leather-bound journal, the parchment inside yellowed, but as official as he is.

"See, I'll have to write the documents, and then you both sign them, and then I sign them, and then it's done. We would like to do this, er... as properly as possible, of course."

He says that, fully realizing that these ladies broke into his office after presumably calling off Rey's wedding, considering that Officer Tua is most certainly not the fellow he was sure she was marrying.

Emboldened by Maketh's hand in hers, as well as the other woman's presence there for her at all, Rey just nods, but doesn't move.

"Fine. I've got nowhere to be."

Meaning that she doesn't intend to be anywhere else than here until this gets done.

The thought of going back out there again, of possibly facing wedding spectators and even Sully himself is enough to make Rey's stomach turn. She doesn't want to hear the excuses, the demands for answers like they think they're owed. If not for Maketh, Rey would have been long gone from a wedding with a man she didn't at all love. She doesn't owe them anything, but to Maketh she owes everything.

This is something she wants. Get it done. Quick and efficient. They don't need an audience; everything they need is already here.

Except for Rey's hand in hers, the whole thing almost feels anticlimactic. It comes down to paperwork, of all things, and Maketh fights back laughter. Paperwork. Of course.

"We will wait," she agrees softly, covering her smile with her free hand.

They insist they'll wait; they end up doing that for at least another several seconds as Carlisle inwardly hems and haws over what to do. It really isn't proper wedding protocol for two people to break into the church in the dead of the night -- one of whom was supposed to be married to someone completely different that day -- and demand he write a marriage license right there and then.

And yet, here they are, Rey and Maketh standing hand-in-hand, awaiting the aforementioned license. Carlisle clears his throat, as though that might make them reconsider somehow, and when it clearly doesn't, he eases uncomfortably into his chair and draws his pen, flipping to an empty page.

"Right. Guess I'll, ah. Get started."

And so he does. It's going to take him a while, given it's a rather lengthy document, but when all is said and done, they'll be wed, no matter what anyone else may think.

"Are 'Rey" and 'Maketh Tua' your legal names?" he asks as he gets to the blanks he's drawn. He continues scrawling hastily, not realizing that he's written goddess and Clarity rather than the name of the deity the gods have created for this illusionary world.

To some degree, it seems fitting for things to end this way. There's no dramatic ceremony, no flowers or prettied speeches. It isn't even the way Rey imagined her wedding would be...

Not that Rey thought she'd ever get married. Strange, that, all things considered. It was a feeling she had been warring with all week, but now it seems right. Coming together.

She squeezes Maketh's hand as Carlisle gets to work, and decides to leave the priest without any unnecessary distractions. She takes a seat, and gestures for Maketh to do the same. A small smile creases her face as she thinks about how funny this all is, she almost doesn't hear Carlisle's question.

"Oh, um. Yes. Just 'Rey'."

More strangeness. Her mother and father had last names, didn't they? Shouldn't it be Valentine? Or Stransky?

Never mind.

what is love? [OPEN/CLOSED]

park: pre-ceremony preparations. [OPEN]

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Park, pre-ceremony

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park: wedding. [CLOSED to MAKETH]

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church. [CLOSED(ish) to CARLISLE and MAKETH]

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