i know this is war
Of course she comes. One, it’s at a bakery. And two (and fine, more importantly), it’s for Deimos. She does not know Amalia, but she considers Deimos a friend. Also, Amalia had fed her cookies and scones, so the woman has a special place in Weaver’s heart.Weaver makes her way to the reception, a bottle of bubbly in her hands, unwrapped but for a bow. Wrapping always seems wasteful, particularly when the shape of the package will give away the contents. For once, she is actually dressed up, wearing (gasp) a dress. It is form fitting, though not particularly low, stopping at her mid-thigh. Wedding appropriate, even down to the shoes, which are not her usual boots but halfway practical heels (chunky, medium height things that are decent for walking and dancing).
As she enters, she makes her way to the newlyweds first, offering them a large smile. She hands the bottle over, proffered to whoever would take it. ”Not for tonight, so hide it from the vultures. It’s for a special night for just the two of you.” The bottle was one she’d procured, not Sunjata. She’d gone to rather decent lengths to find good sparkling wine. Nothing subpar or mediocre, not for this.
With that, she makes her way to the table of food and beverages, pouring herself a drink and browsing the options, particularly the desserts.
--weaver
but the rest of us are trying to pretend it’s a party
