This and That

Sky Full of Stars

"What was it like, Uncle?"

"Like? Björn, nothing I know of compares to that day. In fact, I will go so far as to say we shall never see such a day again. Maybe it was the color of the sky that morning...oh, I couldn't say, but I'll attempt a sufficient description.

"I had come into the ballroom with a message for one of the directors, but I stopped at the entrance. Flowers, my boy, flowers everywhere. I half expected them to sprout from the walls. They sat up in vases on each table, hung by strings and ribbons from the ceiling, and littered the floor in random corners. And colors of both countries, mind you, covered every square inch of anything. I even noticed someone had specially ordered plates with green and purple lines encircling the rims."

"Encircling?"

"Going around, child. It mean lines going around the plates."

"Oh."

"Yes, don't interrupt, so please you.

"Now concerning my message, I hastily delivered it (only after a stern and none too soft reprimand from a superior, mind you). Continuing through to the other side, I discovered past the double doors a whole world of the grurple theme. Yes, that is me combining the two words into one, keep up. And so, I watched attendants hang streamers across the walls. Of course, we had followed the silly tradition of painting pictures for the bride and groom. On taut strings stretching from one end of each hallway to the other hung the pieces of parchment of the theme colors, one painting from each citizen within the walls. I watched the preparations from various positions throughout the day, acting as a motter for the special occasion. What's that you say, now?"

"I asked if you drewed a nice picture."

"My work of art outshone them all, if I do say so myself."

"But, Uncle, what did you draw?"

"Finja, that.....is a story for another day.

"Now, the thing to understand here, is that some feather-brained strudel decided the groom should wear purple to match the bride's green. Why, you might ask, dear children? To put it quite frankly, Westmark is the land of stupidity and the haven for freakshows. But to be fair, these planners knew how to put on a smashing freak show. Oddly enough, the entire thing turned out rather on the less expensive side, as weddings go. Figures, with the country bride herself directing traffic. Anyway, the guests all arrived in various combinations of the thematic colors. In fact, I strongly believe I caught a glimpse of some poor soul masquerading in an outfit resembling that cabbage we saw the head chef throw out last Thursday. You remember that stuff, don't you? Fador's withered knees, that nastiness stank to Lepahn and back. Unfortunately, this guest smelled much the same. Boy or girl? Well, now, let us hope it was a lad.

Moving on to my suit, I wore some fancy getup I had casually thrown together the morning of. Now then, I attracted the gazes of all the fair maidens, but you know I could wear celery and they'd still fall over themselves to reach me. But that really is another story. You want to hear about the actual good bit, correct? Thought so. Let me first say, the throne room had not escaped the flower contagion. Orchids and green lilies practically grew over the walls and doors. Stars, people had to step on strewn petals just to get down the aisle. First came the bride's and groom's parents, helped to their seats by several members of the royal guard. Rather, the bride's parents walked to their seats. Your other grandparents, of course, had by that point passed on.

Then came the bridesmaids with the groomsmen. One pairing, a Rurik and a Jayla, if memory serves, seemed to have special trouble in parting to their respective sides of the groom. I long suspected something between them, and why they took forever getting to it is anyone's guess.

"The flower girl and ring bearer? Can't say exactly, Finja; their names escape my mind just now."

"Did they wear grurple too?"

"Too much indeed.

But moving on, the bride herself at last floated through the floral doors and down the dead-flower aisle. Let me put it out there now, no one wears green better than Evalin Turner. Ab-so-lute-ly no one. You must ask Vickie for the details, if you want to hear it down to the type of stitch. For my part, I only noted the simplicity of it: a bodice that dropped in dark emerald silk to the floor, lighter straps that fell just off the shoulder, and a similar veil that sloped with the gown. I saw no gems, diamonds or any other, no sparkly materials. But that dress outstripped all other wedding outfits, perhaps simply owing its beauty to the elegant lady filling it.

The entire service, obviously, moved me to tears, and I discreetly borrowed the extensive fabric of the woman next to me, who noticed not a thing. King Turiah shifted from foot to foot the entire time, and methinks I caught Evalin pushing back a nervous giggle. I had helped him through the motions that morning, but somehow his curly rat's nest had returned to its usual entropic state. The minister--most eloquent man in Aoterroa, I should say--finally came to the final part, and-"

"Is this the part where they have a battle with their faces?"

"Yes.....yes, I suppose you might say so, Björn. What a lovely description.

"The minister barely boomed out the words before Evalin dove in for the kill, nearly knocking over her man in the process. But let them not say that our dear king neglected to respond in kind. Pinoris bent down, so as to make things easier on his bride, and, gripping her face, pulled her up towards him. In the end, which at last arrived after a good two minutes, Turiah ended up spinning her around and face battling her soundly before someone began laughing. Of course, it spread, and before you knew it, we were standing, clapping, and grinning madly."

"EWWWWWWWW, Uncle!"

"Disgusting indeed. Him looking like that and winning a morning glory for a wife--enough to turn one's stomach."

"And and and did they live happily ever after?"

...

...

"For as long as their ever after lasted, yes I should say so."