The crone didn't follow a procession out to the waiting groom. She didn't need one. This wasn't a normal ceremony. Then again, any Fable ceremony was anything but the norm. There was no one to give her away, and while she was appreciative of any who came to witness the ceremony, she was more concerned with the two others who were there to complete it.
She walked down the carpet of flower petals. She'd tell the man waiting on her that she liked the location, that she liked the decorations, that she liked just how small this was. She'd tell him many things, but he could probably feel most of it. They were connected after all, and now it'd be more than blood. There would be words and ritual, which were both very powerful on their own.
Her dress had dark browns, greens, and other colors more suited to a forest; the fit was modern with a hint of Faire to it, and it covered more than most of her sundresses ever did. Yet, she wore no shoes. Her hair was left a little wild, set in it was a crown of flowers and twigs. She carried no flowers.
There was a slight smile for the Cowboy God and for the others there. Her attention turned to the man. She never thought she'd marry. It wasn't in her story after all.