Wedding of the Dead

Chapter 10: Can the Living Marry the Dead?

"Lucas!" Celeste rushed forward, allowing herself to be pulled into his arms as a sigh of relief came from the corpse groom, "Are you alright? I thought we agreed you'd wait..."

"Took too long," Lucas answered, "I was getting worried - never mind a hound nearly go ahold of my leg while I was waiting in the dark."

"Celeste? Who?" Verity's voice pulled the two of them back.

Lucas' gaze fell upon the woman first; a classic English rose is what would have described her perfectly. 

The woman - potentially Celeste's sister due to proximity in which they had shared and the few touches of comfort he had seen from outside - was pale-skinned with sunshine golden hair and had deep emerald green eyes that looked upon him with fear; she was very different from Celeste's moonlight figure as this one seemed to radiate sunlight. Her ivy-colored dress was wrinkled heavily in the front and a crumpled handkerchief was in her grasp - signs of fretting with worry based on what he remembered. Her cheeks were tinted a heavy rose color, stained with tears. The only similarity Lucas could see between the English rose and Celeste was that they both were approximately the same height - but Lucas couldn't see anything particularly special about her, nor could he understand how his bride thought this woman was far more beautiful than she; to him, she looked simply... ordinary.

The man that stood near the English rose, however, was another story.

Lucas' felt his features harden, his lips twisting into a frown, as he felt a twinge of jealousy hit him like a punch to the gut. The man - most likely the so-called 'fiancée' as he seemed to be too young to be Celeste's father - was tall, a good few inches taller than himself; his chin practically touching the top of the English rose's head. His dark eyes met his opaque ones with surprise, soft but welcoming with a hint of fear. His dark hair was pulled back by a colored ribbon of sorts, though several strands were brushed aside and tucked behind his right ear. He lacked a coat of any sorts, wearing only a pale dress shirt with a high collar and gray cravat with a matching vest. His black pants lacked any dust or dirt, covering leather-bound dress shoes that shone with the tiling on the floors from the moonlight.

However, what bothered Lucas the most about him, was that he looked vaguely familiar. He didn't know where he had seen him before, but Lucas was quite positive he had met him in his previous life when he was alive.

Possessiveness overcame Lucas as he wrapped his skeletal arm around Celeste, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder, his voice tinted with a slight irritation, "My dear, are these your family members you were telling me about earlier?"

Celeste could sense something was up, but before she could answer, Verity cut in.

"It... He knows about us?" her features went from fearful to confused, back to fearful again.

"Yes, this is Lucas," Celeste answered, attempting to keep the situation calm, "I told you, Verity, that we talked a lot during the first few hours we met."

"But... but he's... dead, isn't he?" Verity squeaked.

Lucas growled deep in his chest, the sudden urge to lash out at the strange woman building up beneath his rotting skin. It didn't bother him when Celeste had said it, but that was because it was different - she opened herself up to him and allowed him to know her in depth as he did for her as well; however, this woman - this breather - had no right to say that at all. Celeste pressed her hand against Lucas' chest, realizing that he was a bit sensitive to that word - especially if it came from anyone that the dead considered a 'breather,' save for her.

"Perhaps, but that shouldn't matter should it?" Celeste tried to reason with her sister, "I promise that he's a good man."

Septimus and Verity seemed at a loss for words, both nervous to utter a syllable out of fear with the fire that was burning brightly in the corpse's eyes.