126/3 Holy vows [Open]

[Theomore Tullison]

The way Floreta beamed as she entered, no lady in the sept at The Twins could ever hope to outshine her, wearing a gown made out of silk from the jade sea in a pale silvery complexion, so thin that the light passes through it with ease, yet allowing full modesty, it is covered in a flowery layer of stark white Myrish lace and studded with at least a hundred precious blue stones. The very image of innocence, the bride is only just a woman grown, with a face full of youth accentuated by her large eyes and an eager anticipation of a child just about to realize that she has been given the gift she desires above all else. Lord Forrest, her cousin, seems almost invisible next to her, finely dressed in blue Lorathi velvet and cloth-of-silver, both of their garbs a clear signal that House Frey's wealth is beyond the reach of most houses in attendance, he leads lady Floreta by the arm towards the alcove between the carvings of the Father and the Mother. While he seems happy for her, there seems to be a sense of duty to him where fatherly pride would be expected from a man having his role, but he was merely taking on the duty that his uncle would have carried out had he not perished serving the crown at the stepstones so many years ago, so that is not entirely unexpected. His lady wife, Sabitha of House Vypren, offered a rare smile of encouragement as her lord husband passed.

Waiting for her, Ser Theomore smiled, a considerably more dignified and worldly posture than his wife to be, but that is hardly a surprise, being almost twice the age of the lady walking towards him, and a guest of at least a hundred weddings. His doublet of deep blue, with the sort of swirling quality that only the Tyroshi masters of dye can make, gives him a somewhat regal appearance, and next to his Lord Nephew, wearing the fiery dramatic red that he so prefers, might bring forth associations to the icy grip of winter. There, between the likeness of Father and Mother, they stood in contrast before the septon as he lead them through prayers and vows and singing, and tall candles burning, a hundred dancing lights that the pearls of her gown transformed into a thousand to rival the shine of her eyes. Sparkling blue, innocent and pure, looking forward to a life that was just beginning meeting what would seem as deep pools covered in shadows and mystique, eyes that had seen enough to question if starting a family in this world was a good idea.

Then came the time for Lord Forrest to remove her maiden cloak of blue and silver as if it was a matter of utmost importance, then backing away slowly, so that attention would shift to the man replacing him as his cousin's protector as Dunstan handed Theomore the heavy cloak of crimson velvet set with precious stones and with the blue Tullison mountains weaved into it, a cloak gifted to Joston Tullison by Lord Axel Tully prior to his wedding to Lady Casserdre Piper, a heirloom that all ladies of House Tullison would wear during their weddings, removed by their father or cloaked in by their new husband. Theomore gently wrapped it over her shoulders in a smooth and loving motion to the delight of his bride, clasping it together with a brooch of red gold matching his own fashioned in the likeness of a fox. She turned around to face him, her silvery voice full of joy, as the moment she had been looking forward to for months arrived. "
With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband."


"
With this kiss, I pledge my love,"
Theomore replies with depth and strength to his voice, like steel wrapped in plush velvet, "
and take you for my lady and wife."
He leans forward and downward, and she upward, and their lips touches, and not briefly.

The septon raises his crystal high so that the rainbow light falls down upon them. "
Here in the sights of gods and men,"
he says, "
I do solemnly proclaim Theomore of House Tullison and Floreta of House Frey to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

While Corrine had often thought the worst of Ser Theomore, she watched the ceremony from the congregation with a cheerful heart. Weddings were always a joyous thing for her, and this one held hope for her that Lady Floreta would be safer &
happier, and that Ser Theomore might become a better man for it. While she was not certain he would change his ways, she definitely was certain that this marriage would be better for Floreta than if she'd had to marry Benjen Frey. Better to marry an imperfect man than a monstrous one.

She applauded heartily with everone else at the conclusion of the ceremony, genuinely happy for the newlyweds. In this ever-darkening world, such occasions were needed. This played on her mind, along with the recent knowledge of the new life she'd be bringing into it. All the more reason to work harder at making the world brighter.

[Ser Alfred Haigh]

Ser Alfred had found a place in the mid of the attending crowd, leaning towards the back of the room. While he was still able to see most proceedings and guests (although from behind, of course), the front would remain free for guests of higher standing and he might be able to avoid concentrating too much attention on himself. Although he had put on his better garbs, they were positively frugal compared with some of the clothes other attendants were presenting. In fact, the more expensive fabric and finer work was all that distinguished it from his usual clothes. Completely dressed in grey, only the coat of arms on his chest lent a speck of colour to the figure: The russet field with the yellow bend and the black pitchfork of House Haigh, combined with a badger in the chief as his personal identifier.

Although a wedding was always supposed to be a happy event, Ser Alfred would without a doubt strike any spectator as a rather... dour figure. While he saw the merit of going along with general sntiment, he was mostly attending out of obligation and of course because it was expected of him, not because he enjoyed weddings. If he was honest with himself, it was not even that he didn't find the occasion as such something against his tastes (how could he ?), just that this sort of gatherings brought back a lot of unwanted memories he did not like to deal with.

[Septon Arlyn]

Septon Arlyn stands with the rest of the congregation, on Ser Theomore’s side of the isle. As he watched he had both of his arms folded beneath his yellow sleeves. The Septon's serene expression as he watched Floreta was soon taking him back to other weddings, Such as the one between Lady Kerry and Ser Myles Blackwod. She is quite a wonder, and beauty rivaling Lady Kerry A concerning thought as Septon remembers the rumors surrounding the ex Brackens appetites. Hopefully Ser Theomore will have the temptations of the flesh satiated by having such a good virtuous women.

As Lord Forest removed the maidens clock from Floretas shoulder Septon Arlyn’s memories transport him back to the tent where he met with Ser Theomore, a shadow of stubble on his face and haunted look in his eyes as he agreed to the Septon’s terms of repentance. The knight truly has sorrow for his deeds, or just sorrow for getting caught.. The mask that Ser Theomore wore was concerning to say the least.

With Theomores proclamation and gentle caress as he placed his families cloak upon Lady Floreta and then Ser Theomore’s and the ladies passionate kiss the Septon blushes slightly, doubts being chased form his mind. Hopefully the womanly touch will calm his mind, and allow for him to serve his liege and the Gods with the grace and valor of a true knight.

[Ayleth Bartheld]

Ayleth turned away from the guests so no one would see as she teared up softly watching the wedding.
She was happy with Davain, her husband. He loved her and cherished her, and they would soon have a child together. In a world of liars, schemers and traitors, he was genuine. That was worth more than gold
But there was part of her that wanted Theomore;
that would always want a knight that would fight for her and crown her queen of love and beauty. A man whose deeds could be set to song, and who wrote her poetry. Theomore represented a whole part of herself... the reckless, foolish and romantic side. Everything she had been taught to suppress. She had always valued stability over romance, but sometimes she still wondered what would have happened if she hadn't.

It was nice to see Theomore happy with Floreta. Still, a small part of her was disappointed Theomore had gotten over her. There had been something special between them, but she doubted Theomore's feelings for her had survived that passionate kiss between bride and groom. All she had ever given him was a kiss on the cheek. And yet, what did I want? For him to pine away for me forever, as I lived my happy life with Davain and my children? I am not so cruel

It was even more distressing to see him marry into the blacks. Someday, he would be an enemy of her lord husband, and she could only pray they never faced each other. Did Theomore know that, when he chose her? Did he even care? But his young, Frey wife was obviously untroubled by such thoughts. She envied the bride her innocence, innocence she herself had never really been allowed to have. Ayleth had been raised to be a player in the schemes of the Westerosi. This girl would have a far simpler and less grim existence.

She wiped her tears and smiled;
it would not do for others to see her reaction. That would start unpleasant rumors that her husband did not deserve to have to hear. She applauded gently at the conclusion of the ceremony
I should not have come here. I will only cause Theomore the same pain this is causing me. And yet, it's good to see that he ended up happy.
I was pursued by many worthy men, and ended up with a husband who loves me. That should be enough for me. Only a fool would not be satisfied with the loving spouse they have... a fool or a Targaryean, but that amounts to the same thing.

[Ser Walton Dulver]

Ser Walton wasn't standing out from crowd except his height and massive posture, maybe. As he never tasted in velvets, he wore simple, but neat leather clothes, with his Houses sigil on chest, as only decoration. His cloak was covering his left arm, leaving right one's movement free. He didn't expect anything disturbing, but every man has his habits, and his was to always had right hand free. Whenever he moved, his high riding shoes, he carefully polished, were tapping on the floor.

Young Dulver didn't look for company, despite of surrounding crowd he was lone, but he was glad about that. He never felt comfortable in great halls of castles, and if You ask him, it was always easier for him to storm one's walls, than to smile and chat with people he couldn't care less, and tell them false compliments, learnt before under Septon's or Maester's eye. Ser Walton simply stood there with his back leaning against the wall, playing with his necklace- seven pointed star with diamonds on it's every end, with small obsidian hammer in center of star.

As man, who chose combat as his way of life, he was never especially moved by weddings or any other ceremonies, but he wished best to Ser Theomore, who he considered as friend.

[Tristayne Tullison]

Tristayne had taken this rare and pleasant occasion as an oppurtunity to leave his mourning clothes behind him, as he so rarely did, and to best enjoy the rare treat he had taken for himself he had dressed as best he could. Boots of rich, light leather, adorned with frills of silver and blue, a long, flowing robe of blue dyed sandsilk, with a ring of embroidered silver around his collar, and a delightfully detailed section of weaving patterns made out from silver thread at either wrist. White fox fur adorns the hem of the robe, along with snaking, twirling threads of celestial ermine patterning upon the long, sky blue cape that fell from his shoulder to his knee, covering the brace that held him there. No hat adorns his head, with his golden blonde hair left to flow down and meet silver embroidery at his neck, almost melding together with the natural paleness of his skin and face to give him the look of a Silver Angel, or perhaps of a half-targaryen, despite his lack of that heritage.

On one arm wound a long silver band of exquisite make, inlaid with two or three rubies to mark it out. He wore no rings on his right hand, but a band of gold, the only thing of that metal upon him since his branch of the family had always preferred to adorn their natural blue with star-like silver. The robe coat was left open to show a doublet within, marked with pearls at the shoulder and at the belt, where they met a long belt of dark leather, with a silver buckle inlaid with small blue sapphires. The young man took a joy in such adornments that he so seldom wore, standing beside his far younger sister, she herself dressed in a simple white-blue dress and a silver necklace and constantly asking him questions of the ceremony, to which he answered her with a gentle, quiet voice to avoid interrupting the ceremony.

He never snapped at her, especially not on such a day of ceremony, and he found himself enjoying the occasion, even as he looked to his mother's handmaiden to guide the old matron, her dark eyes now vacant, to move backwards and to ensure that she did not ruin her long flowing dress of blue velvet. She could not think of herself as such any more, but Tristayne felt it important for his sister, Cella, to see her mother as the matron she should have been, not the old and infirm woman she was. In these moments, as he watched Theomore's face so warmed by the proceedings, he began to wonder of finding his own wife, as he often did. He would have to win his glory first, to have such a glorious ceremony as this, and the gentle click of his metal knee reminded him of the icy point of reality in his back.

He would have it, one day, a happy ceremony, all adorned in velvet and silk, but for now, he was half-content to watch and to cheer his older cousin.

[Ereth Redwain]

Ereth and Alya Redwain where in assistance, taking their place with the other Frey bannermen that were ready to welcome a new brother into the fold. Ereth exchanged a few courtly words and laughs with the lords with Alya nearby and present like an extension of himself. Once the ceremony started Ereth was happy for Floretta, he hated Benjen as much as anyone else and the man she would marry was by far not only a greater man, but one of good renown where it counts.

Ereth ponders if he looked with such poise in his wedding, or perhaps Theomore is more skilled at this sort of things, perhaps he would ask him later, and not that it matter anyway. Ereth still couldn´t stop to wonder over such trivial thing, and he hated ceremonies so he kept his mind occupied until the end of the ceremony. Ereth joined the applause with everyone else and congratulated the bride and groom, and a new ally so that the two newest Houses might lean on each other to prosper for generations to come.

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