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.
park: pre-ceremony preparations. [OPEN]
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.