crystal;

[heirring]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Wysteria
RECIPIENT: Everyone
NOTES: A very heartfelt announcement. No shenanigans here, no siree.

[The sun is—well, not quite shining as it is rather very overcast. The birds are—shrieking is really more in line with what the seagulls swooping about the Gallows do. But at least Wysteria Poppell is this morning at her most aggressively bright:]

Good Morning, Riftwatch. This is Miss Wysteria Poppell with a very brief but quite happy announcement.

For those of you who are not otherwise engaged outside the Gallows on the date in question, I should like to cordially invite you on Summerday to bring your best clothes and join the company which will be travelling from here to Edlingham Hall in the Vinmark foothills.

Warden Andrasteia has helped to arrange a very lively party there. We will be camping in the ruin overnight, and expect to engage in all the usual dancing and playing of music and general revelry which is typical in celebration of myself and Monsieur de Foncé's most sincere wedding vows.

Gifts are not unwelcome, but are hardly necessary; we wish only to celebrate our most enduring happiness with anyone who should care to share it. Thank you in advance for all your kind words and congratulations.

Comments

[cozen]

Félicitations! And camping—like a wedding adventure. I love it.

If we are compelled by our own hearts to give gifts—have you and Monsieur de Foncé agreed on any preferences for the style or colors of your household goods?

[heirring]

Ah, how thoughtful a question! Thank you for it and your well wishes. We are in fact in perfect agreement.

[Says someone who has definitely had this conversation with their betrothed and is not currently glancing about them in the hopes of recognizing any set of colors currently to hand.]

Colors ought to be blue or [uh] orange? In whatever shades are pleasantly complimentary. And I realize it likely sounds unfashionable but having spent so much of my time in Thedas here, I have become very fond of how admirably robust Free Marches design is.

[cozen]

It is fashionable here, which is where we are. But how enamored Monsieur de Foncé must be with you, to forsake his country.

[ Choosing the wrong dishes and tapestries is basically treason. ]

[heirring]

[The beginning sound of some syllable is cut short—]

Do you really think so? I mean, naturally that is the case, but surely it is not so serious as that.

[cozen]

I heard once of a countess who went to the Winter Palace in a fur cloak from Starkhaven. Now she is a washer woman in Val Chevin.

[ Half a beat. ]

No, it is not that serious. Especially when your intended is already so well known for his eccentricities.

[heirring]

[Is that a twinge of relief she feels? Yes, it must be.]

No, I thought not.

In any case, you must promise not to bring your cello.

[cozen]

Of course I will—wait. Promise not to bring it?

[ There is of course the possibility he will not be bringing anything, including himself, and sending his gift along with an apology that blames his work rather than the personal complications that have required a vague moratorium on him, Byerly, and Alexandrie being in the same room, which may or may not extend to being at the same party in the same ruin. TBD.

But for now: ]

You cannot be offended by the sound. No one dislikes a cello.

[heirring]

Oh no, I enjoy it immensely! But you are so often obligated to the task and you've already personally obliged me with your playing far too often.

[cozen]

Oh, [ audibly relieved. ] Oh, I see. Well, it has always been my sincere pleasure, and it would be again. But if you and Warden Andrasteia have made arrangements for the music already, I would not presume to interfere.

[heirring]

We are as scattered as chaff on the wind, I assure you. I can't imagine anything is so set in stone that you couldn't play if you truly wished to.

[cozen]

I would be honored.

—to be incorporated. I love the cello, but if you want your guests to dance, it will not move feet alone.

[heirring]

Do you have any recommendations for company?

[cozen]

Madame Fitcher plays the viola, and Amador is a percussionist if you would like something more lively than stately.

[ Commentary on drums, not the drummer, if anyone asks. ]

Athessa, but I do not think she will be back in time. And the Ambassador, obviously, and his violin. He also plays the melodeon, which is fantastic for dancing, and he could take my cello if my hands cramp, because he has so much talent it just has to scatter out in every direction.

You might have a few takers for a pianoforte. Madame d'Asgard, of course, and I believed Madame Baudin. But transporting one and making sure it was not rained on at all would be difficult.

[heirring]

[She takes a breath somewhere in the middle there—then pauses to rearrange what she wishes to say and to allow him to continue and by the time he has finished, she finds it so much more bearable to say with every appearance of good cheer:]

I believe your concerns with respect to the pianoforte are right. But I will ask Madame Fitcher and Mister Amador both. And should you wish the Ambassador to accompany you, he is most welcome. Though I think it would be best if you were to consult him directly.

[cozen]

[ There's a pause first, then a bemused quality to, ] D'accord, I would be happy to, [ but he knows just enough that he doesn't dig for more. ]

You will have to let me know if you have any requests.

[heirring]

Should anything in particular occur to me, I will.

Oh! [Is a sudden alarmed cry.] Will your mustache be fully returned by then?

[cozen]

Sweet Maker, I hope so. But, [ conciliatory, ] I am growing a full beard first, on the way there, if that might go better with your decorations.

[heirring]

A full beard? Good gods, whatever for?

[cozen]

[ He laughs so as not to cry.


Not really. He laughs because it's funny. ]

Because a short, stubbly little mustache is much worse than full face of it.

[heirring]

[After a long, LONG beat of consideration:]

I suppose I see the logic.

haunted stare @ tag errors

[cozen]

I think so. But I am very sorry to disappoint, Miss Poppell.

I am going to miss calling you that. Madame de Foncé is not bad at all, but your name is so charming.

1 million years dungeon

[heirring]

I have been thinking I will save it in a drawer in case I should I ever need it again.

[Quickly:]

For publishing, I mean. Particularly as the other de Foncé is rather prolific. It wouldn't suit either of us for there to be any confusion.

[cozen]

Oh, I had not thought of that. But you are right. Especially when I am sure the university circles would be very eager to give an Orlesian man the credit for anything you do right and give you the credit for anything he does wrong.

[heirring]

That was more or less my concern, yes. I suppose it is reassuring to know that the academic studies are reliably monstrous in every place, for it is the same where I'm from.

Are you very familiar with many Orlesian scholars, Monsieur? I know you have a press and are from Val Royeaux. I assume you can't have printed only party invitations.

[cozen]

Not only, no. I have known a few.

[ Where he would leave it if he weren’t trying out transparency. Sort of. Lowering the opacity to 80% at least. ]

But I was, ah—my speciality was discretion. Good for printing things you did not want to follow you around forever. So the ones I have known have mostly been the ones with unorthodox ideas and strange private hobbies.

Good practice for Riftwatch.