Post by Arik on Oct 27, 2014 23:58:25 GMT -5
The blending of cultures at the wedding of Arik and the King to be had not gone as smoothly as she might have hoped. There was an assumption that, as a peasant, Arik would want nothing to do with her heritage as soon as she left her desert sands. When the wedding had first been planned there was no room made for the attendance of her family, it had been expected that Arik would dress only in garb found suitable by her mother in law, eat the food of the Northerners, and use a witness not of her choosing. Arik knew full well that unions in the castle were political moves and that a union based on love was unheard of. It would have been smarter had she gone along with what she was told to do but still, Arik had made little suggestions here and there to try to make the wedding something she could enjoy too.
‘Oh no, not purple flowers I think pink and red would be so much better’
‘You know this dish is a delicacy only the highest of Boil society enjoy’
‘Of course my family will have to be present; they have said they intend to bring a great dowry’
Everything flowed from her lips like honey and silk, all throughout the process of planning the union and after countless calculated moves Arik could taste her homeland in the ice castle. The flowers were an explosion of celebratory colors, and many of the guests were wearing Boil silks to Northern robes. It made Arik smile to see their dark faces and hear their harsh accents. With their company se hoped there would be less jabs at her own foreignness.
At the feast there would be delicate wines made from cactus were served along with the stronger red wine, flatbreads and great bowls of yellow rice beside the thick wedding bread and rolls, and spicy roasted boil meats and vegetables would be served with the richer northern game. The deserts were the only thing untouched by hints of the Boil and that was entirely because Arik didn’t much care for sweets. With gentle words and pleasantries Arik had managed to make her wedding something familiar and to that end she was pleased. Peasant though she may have been no one could ever mistake her for a waif.
Of course, Arik wasn’t supposed to be thinking about such things. She had spent hours getting ready before day broke, as their wedding was set in mid-morning, with the help of several palace maids as well as her closest friend, a fire mage named Char who would double as a bride’s maid, and the old healer who had known Arik since she was born. They had done up her hair in jewels and soft, blue-green petals, somehow finding flowers that perfectly matched the ribbons that flowed through her soft silver dress. Make up had been gently dabbed over her face, making her already dramatic features seem almost unearthly. Apparently one of the maids had taken inspiration from the otherworldly beauty of daemons and Arik didn’t have a problem with that.
”You know what the prince is wearing?” Char purred in their native tongue. Her dress was blue-green silk with white flowers around her waist and in her fiery-gold hair. She had been ducking in and out of the side room they were waiting in, finding tall flutes of wine to pass around the maids.
”No, but I doubt it will clash,” Arik shrugged. She adjusted the diamond and black pearl necklace hanging around her throat and flipped her silver veil down over her face once she was satisfied with her reflection. ”Did you see if they were ready?”
”A few more minutes my dear,” Babushka answered before Char had the chance, ”Soon, soon, the music is still too soft, yes? Yes, soon I think they will start.” The old woman nodded to herself and pulled her shawl a little tighter to her head. The old woman wasn’t planning to go out with Arik as Char did but she had still been pacing the room and making careful assurances that everything was going exactly as she thought they should.
‘Oh no, not purple flowers I think pink and red would be so much better’
‘You know this dish is a delicacy only the highest of Boil society enjoy’
‘Of course my family will have to be present; they have said they intend to bring a great dowry’
Everything flowed from her lips like honey and silk, all throughout the process of planning the union and after countless calculated moves Arik could taste her homeland in the ice castle. The flowers were an explosion of celebratory colors, and many of the guests were wearing Boil silks to Northern robes. It made Arik smile to see their dark faces and hear their harsh accents. With their company se hoped there would be less jabs at her own foreignness.
At the feast there would be delicate wines made from cactus were served along with the stronger red wine, flatbreads and great bowls of yellow rice beside the thick wedding bread and rolls, and spicy roasted boil meats and vegetables would be served with the richer northern game. The deserts were the only thing untouched by hints of the Boil and that was entirely because Arik didn’t much care for sweets. With gentle words and pleasantries Arik had managed to make her wedding something familiar and to that end she was pleased. Peasant though she may have been no one could ever mistake her for a waif.
Of course, Arik wasn’t supposed to be thinking about such things. She had spent hours getting ready before day broke, as their wedding was set in mid-morning, with the help of several palace maids as well as her closest friend, a fire mage named Char who would double as a bride’s maid, and the old healer who had known Arik since she was born. They had done up her hair in jewels and soft, blue-green petals, somehow finding flowers that perfectly matched the ribbons that flowed through her soft silver dress. Make up had been gently dabbed over her face, making her already dramatic features seem almost unearthly. Apparently one of the maids had taken inspiration from the otherworldly beauty of daemons and Arik didn’t have a problem with that.
”You know what the prince is wearing?” Char purred in their native tongue. Her dress was blue-green silk with white flowers around her waist and in her fiery-gold hair. She had been ducking in and out of the side room they were waiting in, finding tall flutes of wine to pass around the maids.
”No, but I doubt it will clash,” Arik shrugged. She adjusted the diamond and black pearl necklace hanging around her throat and flipped her silver veil down over her face once she was satisfied with her reflection. ”Did you see if they were ready?”
”A few more minutes my dear,” Babushka answered before Char had the chance, ”Soon, soon, the music is still too soft, yes? Yes, soon I think they will start.” The old woman nodded to herself and pulled her shawl a little tighter to her head. The old woman wasn’t planning to go out with Arik as Char did but she had still been pacing the room and making careful assurances that everything was going exactly as she thought they should.