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Everything was in readiness. The night before, they had set up everything with Ginny and Jamie's help. There was a small, white archway at the end of a bridal path of white, with chairs along both sides of the path. Small, twinkling lights hovered just over the ground, also compliments of Ginny.

There was a small area for dancing and tables for sitting and eating underneath a tent, and the breakfast reception would soon be spread--the party would go on for hours, perhaps, if people so wished.

Before the sun has even peeked over the horizon, when the dawn is just a purple dream in the distant sky, the priest shows up to make sure all is in readiness. He does so love weddings, the joy they bring to all who attend them, and it is a peaceful thing to be here first, before anyone, even the groom, has shown up.

It is a lovely morning, warm, with the mist still on the ground and the birdsong in the air.

And so he walks through the set up, making sure that nothing is inordinately wet, before the guests start arriving.

And
arrive they do, blinking in the early morning, as many as want to come and are awake at this time. The priest greets them all pleasantly and guides them to seats.

Sparhawk and Jamie Madrox, his witness, come closer to the time, and he spends his time waiting and talking pleasantly with the priest--or at least as pleasantly as can be managed, with the imminence of the wedding. The bridegroom's eyes keep stealing towards the Residence, seeking the form of his bride. His witness nudges him, making a murmured comment, and Sparhawk laughs.

And the birds keep singing as the purple dawn turns to pink and red, and then there is a stirring out by the Residence, and the front door swings open.

Elaine was sitting outside, near the lake, ostensibly doing her needlework, but really basking in the sunlight. Now that spring is here, she felt much more alive and much happier.

She sat on a quilt, but she removed her shoes and placed her bare feet on the grass. It felt so nice not to have to wear shoes at all. She was doing her needlework but she occasionally looked out towards the lake dreamily, just listening to the small waves rushing against the shore.

Elaine is writing, and is very glad for the abundance of paper. This is...a very difficult letter to write.

How do you write the last letter to your family, knowing you'll never hear back from them? How do you convey that you miss them but that you're also happy?

She's staring at a mostly blank piece of paper. Maybe she should make a list of things she wants to say. Her brow is furrowed and she's definitely tense.

And the tea is not helping at all.