Lexi groaned, flopping back against the back of the sofa as though her entire life had come to an end with just those few words. "Clint is a Pureblood with very good standing. I'm the Pureblood daughter of a Death Eater who got his son killed," she grumbled, missing the way Emma's skin paled. She really felt that it should have given her some shelter from such a large wedding. Most of the people there she wouldn't even know. She supposed, she couldn't really cut out Clint's connection with both the social circle and the Quidditch circuit. Suddenly, a small stretch of beach with just the two of them sounded like heaven.
Sighing, she sat up and took the information from Emma's hands. Taking the flower arrangement information first, she started flipping through it. She really had no idea where to even start and the thought of having to decide on all of this tonight made a spark of panic rise up in her chest. How was she suppose to pick flower arrangements when she hadn't even picked out the dresses? How was she suppose to pick out the dresses if she hadn't picked a venue? How was she suppose to pick a venue if there was no theme? How was she suppose to pick any of this without Clint's opinion? What if he didn't like any of it and they had to start all over? They'd never get it all done in time and then his Mother really would have a legitimate excuse as to why they shouldn't go through with this marriage.
It was a completely stupid thing to think, but it was there and she was freaking out. Groaning, she set the books down and leaned forward, leaning her forehead against her knees. "Holy shit," she muttered. She wasn't nervous about marrying Clint. She'd marry him tomorrow if that's what she had to do. When she allowed herself to think of everything that needed to be done she felt the pressure and that need to make sure everything was perfect settled over her.
Colour. Perhaps she could start with a colour. That was simple enough, right? Of course ... what if it wasn't the right colour for the season? Or the venue? What was the best colour for early spring? Yellow? She hated yellow. It washed her out. "Purple," she groaned, the sound somewhat strangled coming from where her face was still buried in her knees. "Just go with purple."
Maybe they could just run away together. That was a nice image. No parents. No pressure. No society breathing down their necks and looking for something to criticize.