Once the trepidation of being transported to somewhere wholly unknown wears off, Fiona is able to marvel at the surroundings. The hall is breath-taking - it's definitely well-suited for an event like this (moreso than it is for, say, a gun-toting American to mow down hordes of zombie cultists in).
She's wearing a light blue floral-patterned dress, heels and a pair of ear-rings inset with vibrant red stones. Hewie is not dressed in anything (because Fiona will never be one of those pet owners) apart from his best collar. His only collar really, but it's still good. The invite said gift-optional, but she didn't feel right not bringing something, and there's always room for a set of those hefty round scented candles, right?
The (man dressed as a?) Chinese dragon's an interesting touch. Gives the whole thing a bit of a multicultural feel to it.
Barong isn't big enough to be man-sized (or two-man-sized, as the tradition goes with the Balinese dance made in his honor.) He's only about the size of a regular lion. Fiona (and Hewie, should he be in attendance) can get a closer look at this fact, as the creature is now trotting up to her!
"Hello! Welcome to the castle Salazar! Is that a gift for the couple? Would you like me to take it for you to where it needs to go? I am more than happy to help!"
He could be a short person? In a very authentic-looking- no, it's the real deal. Okay then. Don't stare, Fiona. Just smile. "...Hello!" She nods politely, because what else are you gonna do? "I'm Fiona, this is Hewie..." who is indeed present (as he gets a mention in the second paragraph) and greets Barong at a moderate, in-door volume.
"Yes," she holds up the parcel, and looks again at the helpful dragon. She doesn't see any hands. She's not sure what the protocol is here. "...Or you can show me where to take it, whichever is easier..."
Barong, after his offers and welcome, gives a comical, jingling bow to both the girl AND her dog (who WAS mentioned in the second paragraph, how about that.)
"Oh, no trouble at all! You may just set it here with me." Meaning put it on the floor so he can most likely pick it up with his teeth, since he doesn't want to make a move towards her hand with his mouth open, as that could be scary! "And then, if you would like, I can see you to your seat!" His tail wags back and forth with a 'fwip fwip fwip' sound. He is a helper!
Ah, truly it is a wonderful day for love and serious busine--wait what the fuck.
Is that.
No.
...oh wait, yes.
Some among the readership might wonder how a five-inch fuzzybutted spider managed to get under a chair in the middle of a crowded room without anybody noticing. The spider himself is worried about more important things. Like the fact that ALL HE CAN SEE IS FEET. OH GOD. STOMPY FEET. PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT STEP ON HIM ON THIS DAY OF ALL DAYS, OH YE MERCIFUL, MYSTERIOUS, UNKNOWABLE SHOE-BEINGS.
Woe is the been, folks. Woe is the been. Woe...and helo.
While Fiona's taking her seat to wait for the proceedings to... proceed, slips out under the pews (or benches or whatever) to have a quick look-around, and follows his eyes and his to nose to espy a bean in danger of being squished underfoot. Squished bean is not good bean.
His head lowers to examine the bean. helo bean. The show couldn't start without you.
If been knew there was going to be a show, he'd have dressed up. Of course, what beens consider fancy dress is probably different from what you or I would imagine. Which is to say it's a toss-up between 'decorative leaf on hed' and 'my tiny cardboard top hat, let me show it to you.' (Particularly clever and industrious beens might combine the two by clever use of spider-silk to bend a leaf into something vaguely hat-shaped, but one may very well doubt how clever this particular been could possibly be. I mean just LOOK at those teeny weeny, completely blank eyes. ._. Not a sentient thought in his whole head. Or bum.)
Said spider is, however, clever enough to tell the difference between a face and some feet, if only because he's pretty sure the former can't step on anybody. Therefore faces are much better creatures, as well as potential allies against the horrors of the feets. Helo, face. How are you this fine day?
Courtney, wearing a lovely non-pink dress, follows her uncle to roughly the middle of the hall to get seated, and then doesn't sit herself. She and Hips talked about her being Some Kind of Flower Girl or Something, and she isn't sure what this entails. Maybe the dragony guy knows.
Very softly and very awkwardly she mumbles, "Hey, am I supposed to be somewhere?"
The Barong turns to face her with a jingle of the beads on his braided chin and a grin on his face, of course.
"You are the friend, Courtney Crumrin, are you not? Ah! That is up to you! You are welcome to sit as an esteemed guest, or be a part of the ceremony; Hippolyta has said the final choice is yours to make and she will be thrilled with whichever you favor."
You gotta hand it to him, Dr. Sloth is the tenacious sort.
He's also occasionally got a knack for doing things wrong in just the right way.
This is demonstrated by how he manages to teleport into the castle, just in front of and entirely missing that Ruthven and Hippolyta are only a short ways behind him. And he then bursts into the Hall of Water with a dramatic BANG of the doors. And waving his arms grandly, pointing one finger skyward, Sloth shouts:
"I OBJECT!"
He holds that pose for the few seconds he doesn't realize that guests are still mingling and finding their seats...and there's no one at the alter. His arm drops, as does his expression, now one of scowling.
"...Aw, come ON. It hasn't even started yet?! Now I have to go back out and do it all again." And grumbling, the tall, dark figure turns and exits, doing just that; starting over so he can object the marriage at the right moment.
Dirk jumps and turns along with the other guests when the door bangs open, and scowls as the tall figure grumbles and stalks away. Really, he'd be the first to point out that Hips is dashing plenty of men's hopes by getting married, but at least he's enough of a gentleman to sit quietly in his seat and just watch.
As soon as everybody has found their seats, has settled all the children down, gotten to where they're supposed to be in terms of standing, whatever, the music begins. The traditional music. Here Comes The Bride
( ... )
Gale has assumed his (only recently) assigned best man position, hands clasped behind his back in an almost military posture.
There's an understandable "oh, what?" moment, when Sloth makes an entrance. That green guy, the one he almost-accidentally-killed-but-didn't. He's half afraid that Sloth is here because of him, and he begins formulating plans to take him out with the least disturbance, should he--ah, there he goes without a fight . . . and . . .
. . . and oh, oh, there she is. Hippolyta looks so lovely. His smile is a little tight-lipped; as best man, he's not sure whether he should be expressing modest stoicism or glee right now.
Well, considering the traditional role of the best man is to step in should the groom faint or run away or something, maybe he should be nervous, too. Just sayin'.
Hips would wave, but her hands are occupied. She'll hug you after the ceremony, Gale.
Comments 155
She's wearing a light blue floral-patterned dress, heels and a pair of ear-rings inset with vibrant red stones. Hewie is not dressed in anything (because Fiona will never be one of those pet owners) apart from his best collar. His only collar really, but it's still good. The invite said gift-optional, but she didn't feel right not bringing something, and there's always room for a set of those hefty round scented candles, right?
The (man dressed as a?) Chinese dragon's an interesting touch. Gives the whole thing a bit of a multicultural feel to it.
Reply
"Hello! Welcome to the castle Salazar! Is that a gift for the couple? Would you like me to take it for you to where it needs to go? I am more than happy to help!"
Reply
"Yes," she holds up the parcel, and looks again at the helpful dragon. She doesn't see any hands. She's not sure what the protocol is here. "...Or you can show me where to take it, whichever is easier..."
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"Oh, no trouble at all! You may just set it here with me." Meaning put it on the floor so he can most likely pick it up with his teeth, since he doesn't want to make a move towards her hand with his mouth open, as that could be scary! "And then, if you would like, I can see you to your seat!" His tail wags back and forth with a 'fwip fwip fwip' sound. He is a helper!
Reply
Is that.
No.
...oh wait, yes.
Some among the readership might wonder how a five-inch fuzzybutted spider managed to get under a chair in the middle of a crowded room without anybody noticing. The spider himself is worried about more important things. Like the fact that ALL HE CAN SEE IS FEET. OH GOD. STOMPY FEET. PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT STEP ON HIM ON THIS DAY OF ALL DAYS, OH YE MERCIFUL, MYSTERIOUS, UNKNOWABLE SHOE-BEINGS.
Woe is the been, folks. Woe is the been. Woe...and helo.
Reply
His head lowers to examine the bean. helo bean. The show couldn't start without you.
Reply
Said spider is, however, clever enough to tell the difference between a face and some feet, if only because he's pretty sure the former can't step on anybody. Therefore faces are much better creatures, as well as potential allies against the horrors of the feets. Helo, face. How are you this fine day?
Reply
Very softly and very awkwardly she mumbles, "Hey, am I supposed to be somewhere?"
((Sorry for the lateness. Work is hell.))
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"You are the friend, Courtney Crumrin, are you not? Ah! That is up to you! You are welcome to sit as an esteemed guest, or be a part of the ceremony; Hippolyta has said the final choice is yours to make and she will be thrilled with whichever you favor."
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He's also occasionally got a knack for doing things wrong in just the right way.
This is demonstrated by how he manages to teleport into the castle, just in front of and entirely missing that Ruthven and Hippolyta are only a short ways behind him. And he then bursts into the Hall of Water with a dramatic BANG of the doors. And waving his arms grandly, pointing one finger skyward, Sloth shouts:
"I OBJECT!"
He holds that pose for the few seconds he doesn't realize that guests are still mingling and finding their seats...and there's no one at the alter. His arm drops, as does his expression, now one of scowling.
"...Aw, come ON. It hasn't even started yet?! Now I have to go back out and do it all again." And grumbling, the tall, dark figure turns and exits, doing just that; starting over so he can object the marriage at the right moment.
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She'd facepalm if it meant she didn't mess up her make up.
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She's also ready to taser Doc Sloth. You know. Just in case.
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There's an understandable "oh, what?" moment, when Sloth makes an entrance. That green guy, the one he almost-accidentally-killed-but-didn't. He's half afraid that Sloth is here because of him, and he begins formulating plans to take him out with the least disturbance, should he--ah, there he goes without a fight . . . and . . .
. . . and oh, oh, there she is. Hippolyta looks so lovely. His smile is a little tight-lipped; as best man, he's not sure whether he should be expressing modest stoicism or glee right now.
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Hips would wave, but her hands are occupied. She'll hug you after the ceremony, Gale.
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