(1867-06-24) Wedding Reception In Bloodfield
Wedding Reception in Bloodfield
Summary: Wedding reception for Jonathan t'Maren and Alexandra t'Artan.
Date: 1867-06-24
Related: All Jon/Alex logs
Alexandra  Clarke  Jonathan  Odilia  Talia  Tiadora  

Ballroom, Bloodfield
Included in scene set
24 Juin 1867

Bloodfield. It's not often that the t'Marens entertain at their seat, and the servants here seem to be eager to make up for lost time.

The castle itself is built right into the side of one of the nearby mountains, which means it's half building, half cavern hewn out of the rock. The grand ballroom, the site of this evening's festivities, is part of the latter portion, but it's no less grandiose for it. The walls are smoothed down, the work of skilled masons, with banners hanging from wall to wall in the black and red of House t'Maren. The entire space is brilliantly lit by glowing braziers.

It's not a huge wedding - befitting a union between two lesser houses - but there's space enough for nearly a hundred guests, most of whom are seated at the two long tables stretching across the center of the ballroom. At one end, at the head table, are seated the heads of the families in question: Louis and Melanie t'Maren, Ludovic and Taria t'Artan, together with their children, other close relatives, and particularly honored guests.

At the other end, at the sweetheart table? Jonathan t'Maren and Alexandra t'Artan, with a silver goblet precisely halfway between them.

Jonathan himself is dressed in the colors of his house - red from the waist up, black below. A weapon hangs at his side, a fine steel gladius that's likewise marked with the colors of his house. Occasionally he'll tentatively glance toward the other knight seated beside him, but for the most part he looks out over the assembled crowd, leaning back in his chair, at least /trying/ to appear relaxed.

Tiadora's on the goodwill tour - Get Normont seen as a modern nation ready for foreign trade and cooperation. Why else would the youngest sister of Duke Symon Gerrell be attending. While her house colors are -also- red and black, out of deference to the t'Maren the Gerrell girl wears burgundy silk under her black fitted waistcoat. She seems to be enjoying the party, speaking quietly to those seated near her with reserve since she knows -know one- there. Such was life as a diplomat…

Clarke t'Cauthone is present as an invited guest, otherwise dressed in formal wear then, if not quite as up to date in fashion as many of the others here. He is holding up his glass of wine in a quiet toast to the newly weds. Minor house or not, a marriage is always an occasion to celebrate then - a union, a strenghtening bond between kingdoms and houses, and a cause to raise a glass.

The Marriage Cloak wasn't a huge departure for Alexandra; the colors of house t'Artan aren't terribly different from those of her new one, save for the addition of a stripe of orange, now obscured on the side of the cloak that rests against her exceptionally rigid back. Her posture's something out of finishing primers young ladies pored over before adulthood finally took them, the watchful eye of her mother from all the way across the hall clearly boring into her somewhere around her middle - or so it looked from how she adjusted herself in her stiff wooden seat and smoothed down her skirts. Auburn hair is braided and curled around into a bun, almost like a crown at the back of her head. Her jewelry is subdued, as is her expression - it wouldn't be much like her to err on the side of exceptionally feminine, even on her wedding day.

Every now and again she looks sidelong at the man beside her before her green eyes sweep the rest of the hall. She remains silent and poised.

The Viscountess t'Corbeau is seated with her husband, induldging in a glass of wine, with the celebratory dinner. And, by all appearances she's done well in shedding the after-birth weight and is nearly back to looking to her old self again. She smiles towards the couple, when their eyes sweep or about her own, and she has taken assessment of the others gathered. The glass is tipped Jonathan's way when next his eyes travel towards her and her husband and Talia inclines her head in honorific.

Not seated at the places for the more honored guests, Odilia was at the tables with the smaller folk. Minor bottom dwellers that were part of retinues or so honored by service to either of the celebrating Houses. Her dress was well tailored and actually fashionable, the quality befitting a well to do merchant than noblity. A glass of wine was swirled as she laughed easily at something her neighbor was going on about.

The wedding toast! The t'Marens aren't exactly what one would call wealthy, but one /cannot/ have a wedding without wedding wine. And so there's enough - /just/ enough - for every guest to raise a toast. One cup. That's all.

Once the guests are all quite settled, Baron Louis t'Maren, as the evening's host, rises to make the first toast. He seems quite happy, at least by his own standards, as he does, though it's not entirely clear why. Is it on his son's behalf? Is he pleased at an advantageous marriage for his house? Or is he just really fond of wedding wine? Quite possibly the latter. Regardless…

"To a strong union between t'Maren and t'Artan. To the tradition of knighthood that binds us together." The middle-aged Baron's voice booms through the cavernous ballroom. "And to the promise of a new generation." He raises his glass, lifts it to his lips, and drinks deep.

"Hear hear." Now, this whole shared goblet thing is deucedly awkward for Jonathan. He has to be the first to answer his father's toast, though, doesn't he? And so he raises the silver cup, speaking - though not really /shouting/ - his acknowledgement, and then sets it down, a bit closer to Alexandra's side of the table.

Clarke goes to raise up his goblet then over in a toast then, saluting the man and his bride then, his hands clapping in formal acknowledgement as he joined in teh chants and the 'hear hears'then rising up for it, the t'Cauthone quite happy then as he went to salute then a litlte more informally than he quite had to, full of cheer as he raised a fist in approval!

Right, awkward. At least they'd had the opportunity to communicate before today?

Alexandra rolls her eyes as inconspicuously as possible at the mention of the next generation. Yes, yes. We know the whole point of this. Eyes opened again, though, and the t'Artan knight reached demurely for the goblet to both raise it at her Father in Law, and then to her lips. Her sip was quick and neat and in no time, the cup is between them again. Still awkwardly.

Tiadora raises her cup in cheerful agreement and echoes the toast. She sips - very - sparingly, giving a shy smile to the celebration around her.

Odilia draws her attention away from the conversation at her table as that wedding toast is given. Raising her wine glass along with a 'hear hear' that fades easily enough into the rest of the din of noise in the moment. A wink given to her dinner companion as she takes a drink of the wine.

Talia rises from her seat, as does her husband and in tandum they raise their glass to the toast in unison towards the newlyweds. Her eyes catch Alexandra's look, or perhaps just something subtle in the motions and emotions hidden or revealed, and the can't help but smile just briefly. She inclines her head towards the woman as if to indicate she well knows the thoughts in the other woman's thoughts. Then she shifts her attention towards Odilia, as if making sure either the woman is enjoying herself enough - or at least, behaving herself before she says something quietly to her husband at the table.

Wedding pie! In contrast to the eponymous wine, that's something the t'Marens have evidently prepared in abundance. The pies are slightly tinged red - a byproduct of the reddish plant life that's the namesake of Bloodfield - and stuffed with fine meats from the herds of the province as well. One is placed in front of Jonathan and Alexandra, and the servant who puts it there is wise enough to slice it cleanly in two.

In addition to the wedding pies, there's a flurry of activity as the servants bring out fine roasts, fruits, vegetables and all manner of foodstuffs. It's hardly the level of lavishness that one would expect at a l'Faust or l'Valdan wedding, but it's good, hearty food - the centerpiece, of course, being t'Artan beef, which is a given at a wedding where a t'Artan is one of the spouses.

It seems, however, that the groom's appetite is limited. Oh, he does eat his half of the pie, but quite slowly, as he seems distant, easily distracted. There's the occasional muttered comment to the bride, but for the most part, he's quiet.

Clarke looks quietly, not catching the glance of the bride's eyes then even as he went to hold his glass up to Jonathan in a toast then, going to lift his hand up over to the pair then in another salute then as the food was served. Digging into the feast, the t'Cauthone was happy at the union.

Beef. It's what's for dinner! But not before the pie. Alexandra takes her half and devours it before anyone can look to see if she has or not - quite the opposite of her new husband - and is eager for more food to be brought her way. She nods periodically in his direction as he speaks, but is more quiet than he is. She keeps looking around the room, making eye contact and nodding in acknowledgement as people regard her. It's polite, no?

Odilia sends Talia a bright smile when she catches the Viscountess looking her way. The tCorbeau appearing to enjoy herself, and certainly looking to be behaving. There was not loud conversation or indication of any path towards tipsyness and certainly no dancing on the tables. See, behaved. Oh food! When the food is finally served to her area, after the nobliy had been served, she even does well in taking her turn at seeing food moved on to her plate. If she sneaks the stray bit of fruit or stewed fig onto one of the plates of those upon either side of her, who is going to notice?

The meal goes on for some time, and even Jonathan eventually finishes what's in front of him - and, if anything, he looks to be impressed by his spouse's enthusiasm for the food. Finally, when the guests are well into the dessert course, the father of the bride, Viscout Ludovic t'Artan, rises. After raising his glass for a toast of his own, he makes his way over to the sweetheart table. There's an exchange of nods with his now-son-in-law - a fairly respectful one at that - and then he holds out his arm for his daughter to take. The first dance, as per Couvieri tradition, will be between the bride, as she leaves her house, and her closest male relative.

"If I may be so honored, Sir Alexandra," he addresses her, a little twinkle in his eye belying the overly formal tone of his words.

As the first dance begins, Clarke looks up rom his food then to watch softl then. Young love it might not be, but some things had to be done for kingdom ad for honor and for family. He went to watch then as his eyes turned over to the bride for a moment, and then he went to raise up his drink in a half salute over to the groom then and then to salute the Viscount.

For the first time all evening, Alexandra smiles. Eagerly she takes her father's offered arm, pushing the chair behind her and rising in one fluid motion. "You may, Father." No formality there, considering the only two who could hear her low-pitched reply were said father and her husband.

She took her place opposite him on the dance floor, positioned and ready to go as the music, and the dancing, began.

And dance they do. The Viscount, for his years, is surprisingly graceful, and pleased to be where he is. It's not long before other dancers take to the floor as well, and the reception is in full swing. The weight of the proceedings is lifted. Bloodfield may be a somber place, but for a time, at least, it is time to make merry.

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