They say blood makes you related but
loyalty makes you family
Glancing around at the group, Loren wondered whether voicing his idea aloud was a good idea. However, he didn’t know if he’d get another chance. ”Well... people might not love the idea, or want to go, so please feel free to tell me no, but there’s always the Manor.” His eyes watched Remi warily, wondering how the other man would feel about the suggestion.
At the red-headed woman’s outburst—Lily, he reminded himself firmly—the summoner turned to look at her, task completely forgotten. Perhaps, out of some ill-advised notion that Remi and Rexanna didn’t deserve such taunts from someone who was supposedly the Ascended’s friend, he found his mouth opening to divert Lily’s attention. Luckily for them all, Rexanna beat him to it, and he bit back a retort. Apparently he would just have to trust that the bride-to-be knew how to handle her friend. Still, the tension still lingered in the air, and he bit his lip, hoping that was the last of it. However, he kept a wary eye on Lily as Rexanna came over to inspect his list.
Which she, amazingly, approved of: he gave her a quick smile and a nod at her request. ”I’d be happy to.” Much more quietly, he added, ”I actually might be able to summon a luxere, if that interests you.” Even though flowers, especially for a wedding, were not exactly his strong suit, he’d do his best. It was better that he muddle through it than give Lily another chance to complain. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, and even though he had just met Rexanna, he wanted everything to be perfect for her. Once upon a time, he’d been a farmer, so maybe he could dredge up some half-forgotten plant lore from the depths of his mind. Stranger things had happened, including his very presence here.
Flipping the list with the food over, he stared at the blank page for a very long time. Then, slowly, in an uncertain hand, he wrote ‘winter jasmine?’ The name was vaguely familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall exactly what the flower actually looked like. All he remembered was yellow, which at least fit with the golden theme, or at least close enough. Then, under it he wrote, ‘mistletoe? not a flower.’ Then, he just stared blankly at the nearly empty page.
At the red-headed woman’s outburst—Lily, he reminded himself firmly—the summoner turned to look at her, task completely forgotten. Perhaps, out of some ill-advised notion that Remi and Rexanna didn’t deserve such taunts from someone who was supposedly the Ascended’s friend, he found his mouth opening to divert Lily’s attention. Luckily for them all, Rexanna beat him to it, and he bit back a retort. Apparently he would just have to trust that the bride-to-be knew how to handle her friend. Still, the tension still lingered in the air, and he bit his lip, hoping that was the last of it. However, he kept a wary eye on Lily as Rexanna came over to inspect his list.
Which she, amazingly, approved of: he gave her a quick smile and a nod at her request. ”I’d be happy to.” Much more quietly, he added, ”I actually might be able to summon a luxere, if that interests you.” Even though flowers, especially for a wedding, were not exactly his strong suit, he’d do his best. It was better that he muddle through it than give Lily another chance to complain. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, and even though he had just met Rexanna, he wanted everything to be perfect for her. Once upon a time, he’d been a farmer, so maybe he could dredge up some half-forgotten plant lore from the depths of his mind. Stranger things had happened, including his very presence here.
Flipping the list with the food over, he stared at the blank page for a very long time. Then, slowly, in an uncertain hand, he wrote ‘winter jasmine?’ The name was vaguely familiar, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall exactly what the flower actually looked like. All he remembered was yellow, which at least fit with the golden theme, or at least close enough. Then, under it he wrote, ‘mistletoe? not a flower.’ Then, he just stared blankly at the nearly empty page.
LOREN
