Suffused in twilight, the conservatory seemed magical, as if something straight out of Aphrodisia's Wonderland. Garlands dangling from wrought iron rods, wreaths decorating the back of every cushioned chair, the grand floral arch through which the bride had appeared, all twinkling as though inhabited by tons of fireflies. Lilith wished everyone would take their time moving out, but the ushers descended upon her and her father, and even as she craned her neck around the last chance she got before being whisked indoors, it still had not darkened enough for the whole place to look like it was filled with stars.
Cardew Hall, the main gallery of the Botanical Gardens Museum and tonight's banquet venue, was its own brand of majestic and ethereal. By day, the cavernous space was already dramatic with its soaring vaulted ceilings and ornate stained-glass windows. Now, its towering walls and fluted columns were imposing structures painted in flowers. Only not by pigmented emulsions—but by light.
Every square inch of vertical stone had become a canvas to an elaborate projection of blooms, not static like a typical illustration, but in motion, as though swaying in the wind. Bees and butterflies fluttered through the picturesque field, disappearing from one pillar to the next. If anyone spent the night watching the display, they would discover that it wasn't just several seconds of imagery repeated on a loop, but one long production, conceived as if to tell a story of its own.
Between clothed rectangular tables seating twenty on each side sprang up cherry blossom trees. More than two dozen were situated throughout the atrium, small for something real, large for something not. Whether specially transplanted or painstakingly replicated, Lilith could not be certain—she was not close enough to one to examine it properly. From her seat between Mr. Silver and Alcides Bridgerton, she could only distinguish that the florets were illuminated by some concealed source within the branches, tinting them a pale lilac.
In line with the theme, Livia Cardew—well, Livia Price—was glowing. Yes, with her newlywed radiance, but also literally. Lilith's instincts about her gown had been right. The fabric had to have been imbued somehow with phosphorescent properties. This was nothing like the clumsy reflective vests worn by construction workers. This was a sophisticated, seamless piece of engineering gliding down from the second-storey balcony.
On the landing where the east staircase met the west had been set the stage, where the couple halted in the spotlight and popped a bottle of champagne. Its mouth had been aimed high into the sky, and there came the sound of something in between the toll of a bell and a gong being struck, as if the cork had hit something metal. Then an unmistakable swishing emanated from the bottom of the stairs.
Standing in front of each balustrade was a miniature fountain topped with a bouquet. Once still and motionless and thought merely ornamental, they came to life, lit and overflowing with transparent fluid that splashed into foam. Coupe glasses were filled and distributed to all five hundred guests with staggering efficiency, Avoxes marching in formation to the rhythm dictated by the orchestra now resettled into the adjacent arcades. The couple clinked theirs to signal the start of the feast.
For the first leg, the Prices were perched on their throne-like chairs on the stage, Livia's train forming a white carpet all the way down to the base of the stairs and beyond, while various groups were marshalled up along the sides—so no one stepped on the train—for photos. Then the seven bridesmaids and Damon Price carried the train after Livia, and she materialized just under an hour later in a completely different ensemble.
Unlike the one before, this was sleeveless and featured a plunging neckline. The ruched bodice was the lush green of a healthy meadow in spring. Floral appliques began at the bust, sparse at first, then concentrated quickly so that everything below the knee was so dense, the meadow could no longer be seen. Damon Price's suit had been changed to match; orchids poked out of his gelled hair like a crown. Many speeches were made, many thanks given, and many more exes roasted.
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HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW
Fanfic[ Updates every Wednesday & Saturday ] The blood has barely dried, the arena barely locked. It's only been a few days since the Twentieth Hunger Games declared its victor but preparations for the twenty-first are already underway. Not only is Corio...
