[closed] you cannot have me, I own myself

[eolasemah]

WHO: Sina, Nari, Beleth, Korrin, Araceli, Thranduil, others as specified in Notes
WHAT: The bonding ceremony of the Firsts of Clans Dahlasanor and Ashara (Siuona and Sorrellean, respectively)
WHEN: mid-Bloomingtide
WHERE: the Planasene Forest
NOTES: Usually only Dalish would be allowed, but amnesty is being granted to close, trusted friends of the bride, including outclan Ashara and Sabrae, should they choose to accept it. Upon the insistence of Clan Dahlasanor, unaffiliated city elves will also be welcomed as long as they aren't disruptive. (OOC note: if you're unsure and your dude wants to go, PM me)

The day starts out rainy and grey, never a promising sight for an outdoor ceremony. But the Dalish do most things outside, and everyone will likely be too busy partying to care about it after the bonding ritual itself, so the festivities are set to begin right on schedule.

A clearing has been chosen by Keeper Thalia of Clan Dahlasanor, and the words are to be spoken right at the edge of the forest, under the shelter of trees but still fully incorporating the flowers of the field. This is a place of some significance to Sina's clan, a symbol of their flight from the plains to the forest, and of their new, strengthening relationship to Clan Ashara.

The clearing and surrounding forest are otherwise littered with aravels and tents, a gathering of clans
one of which eagerly anticipates their joining. Keeper Thalia, an active participant in preparations,
has made it clear that she will be officiating the ceremony alongside Deheune; Dahlasanor is being welcomed, not absorbed.

Sina has been quietly nervous for the entirety of the journey from Kirkwall, but as is her tendency, she comports herself with poise and says little on the upcoming nuptials. She's not unhappy. It's her duty, she's proud to do it, and more than anything she's intensely excited to see her clan again.

And let's be real, the party afterward is going to be a rager.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

Thranduil's hand is cool, placed on Sorrel's shoulder, though it cannot pass through the robes to offer some comfort. Perhaps everyone ought not to be approaching him from behind, but perhaps Sorrel ought not to have squirreled himself away in a corner. Thranduil, not intending to startle, is still unapologetic as he comes to face Sorrel, and does an appraisal of his outfit.

He focuses mainly on the wrinkles, and smoothing them out.

"Your bride has a cloud of elves about her." The robes are well-made, and not entirely dissimilar to what Thranduil might see in court. That means his work is easier. He looks up to meet Sorrel's eyes, and smile. "Where are your attendants?"

[writteninblood]

And Sorrel does startle, jumping like a surprised cat, held down only by the easy gravitas of Thranduil's hand on his shoulder. He turns, and only then looks up, surprised twice-over.

"Oh! M--" He remembers at the last moment that my lord was again inappropriate, by request. Sorrel swallows and manages a semblance of a smile, "Thranduil."

He's seen that cloud of elves. Poor Sina. But then, there was the opposite trouble to have.

"Oh, there's...not much to be done with me," He shrugs. No paint for this face, and the robes were those passed from hand to hand-- Keeper to Keeper. They were therefore borrowed, and would be returned, belonging more to the clan than to the individual, "Beleth says my hair is best like this."

You can paint an outhouse, but it won't change the smell, as they say. Having untied his robes for a related purpose, Sorrel can barely get them redone, between his nervous energy and the pressure of the day.

"Mostly, I've been told that I'm to wait and not make a mess of myself."

[rowancrowned]

"Sorrel," he says, not bothering to stand on formalities.

"I disagree," Thranduil notes. "But it is far too late to push you into a bath, and I feel as though you might protest to being anointed in the least of any oils I might have on hand. I will do what I can."

Stand with Sorrel, try and calm his nerves, admire the robes themselves and consider the possibility of elflings, eventually. And Beleth being an aunt.

He lets the silence sit between them companionably as he puts Sorrel to rights with careful, methodical hands, and lets the babble from around the camp wash over them. "I admit I prefer Eldar weddings," he admits. "There is only the engagement party, and perhaps something after a successful marriage."

[writteninblood]

"I bathed," He protests, but makes no movement to counter Thranduil's guiding hand, "I did!"

He's never felt less adult than in this moment, promise.

"...I think I'd like less fuss too. I haven't got any proof, but I think things used to be simpler, in the old Dales. These days, it's important to recognize these events, and give everyone something to celebrate," Sorrel heaves a sigh, at the notion of all this, suddenly washing away. No obligations except to each other, and the future. Just, let things be, without ceremony, or watching eyes, "Wait, what do you mean, Successful Marriage? How..."

How do you fail a wedding? Aside from making a fool of yourself, of course; Sorrel might do anything at all, and he'd end the day bonded with Sina. He's under no illusions about the momentum of the event.

[rowancrowned]

"As Sina was bathed, and pampered?" he counters, eyes flitting from the robe to Sorrel's face. "You are not yourself. You are the clan's hopes. It is a heavy burden, but one that all of your kin has felt at some point. Though, if the pressure is too much, your sister and I might be able to conspire to take the focus from you and Sina."

Satisfied, he steps back, and looks Sorrel over with a critical eye, and pronounces himself pleased. But his attention changes from Sorrel's apparel to Sorrel himself.

"Wedding is... simpler for the Eldar. The couple need only to become one flesh for the union to be valid." Granted, the Vanyar had eight steps before they were allowed to touch, and all the Silvans needed to do was announce they had wed, but all of that was at the core. "There are ways to fail at that. Nerves, perhaps, or a couple too young and clumsy."