RP:As We Weave Ourselves, So Are We Woven Together

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

Summary: With the Battle for Xalious looming on the horizon, Iintahquohae returns to her cabin in Frostmaw to prepare herself for the upcoming conflict. Odhranos arrives not long after and as the pair find solace in each others presences, Inks decides that now is the moment.

The Refurbished Cabin, Frostmaw

Preparing and planning for battles were both things Iintahquohae rarely ever did. Her knack for walking, flying or being abruptly thrown into conflict left little time for any actual planning on her part, but now that she knew a fight loomed in Xalious, she wants to try preparing. After what feels like an hour of indecisive, utterly mindless pacing, Inks comes to the conclusion that she is at a loss for what exactly to do to prepare. The most she had ever planned for a battle was filling up a handful of glass bottles with needles and pins and alcohol with bits of rag sticking out to hurl at foes upon Pinquettki's back after she set the rag ablaze not too far from where the cabin now stood. But they're going to be in the Mage's Tower, aren't they? Pin can't squeeze her way in and help out, as much as Inks would like. The couatl is too big. Somewhere in the midst of this pacing, she tries to cast a bit of magic to flex her arcane muscle, if one could call it that. A puff of air that flows from her palm out to a stack of books nearby disturbs a few of the books like a small breeze, fluttering their pages. It's just about all she can do. Without the Xalious Tree, she's incredibly useless magic-wise. That left the bits of a tiny arsenal she had strewn about the table for her to work with. Knuckle dusters, two of her favorite bats, one of some solid metal and the other the same hollow bat she used in a duel, carved into with sigils that activated when she swung, and a knife. These were things you used in Cenril's alleyways when somebody owed you something, not the Mage Tower. A rarely heard hiss made itself audible in the shadows of her mind, and the darkened veins beneath her skin emitted a subtle glow. Maybe arcane magic wasn't the way. Whatever Sacred offered would be enough? This would be something the seamstress should turn to Kasyr for advice on, she realizes, but she can't. The scimitar is...if she squints, and really stretches her imagination, essentially like a bat. Only flattened, sharp on one side. A louder hiss sounds, this time from her upturned palm, as a multitude of black scales skitter down from her arm into her hand, coalescing into the scimitar's handle, building up into the curved, black blade. Grasping it with both hands, she takes a batter's stance, makes a few practice swings. It's ligher than a bat sure, but it's clear from her grimace that she doesn't like it. A competent swordsman would balk at this, not only for her use of the weapon but for her appearance, given she's in a backless dress while her tattoo heals and looks more like she's about to set off for some lavish dinner party and not fight off the Ossian Order, but thankfully Inks is alone. She carelessly drops the sword to the floor, but before it thunks against the cabin's floorboards, it shatters into a multitude of scales again that are swept away with some wind she can't sense. Gathering the items on the table that can be stowed away in the pockets of her jacket, draped on the nearest chair, she puts them away. Each bat is propped up against the table as well so they don't roll off of it and make noise. A hand rakes through her curls, and she settles into the chair. Whether or not S'erok is in the cabin or with Odhranos, Inks has fallen into the habit of just talking out loud even if she doesn't receive a response or not. “I'm not ready for this,” she blurts, accompanied with a sigh. Dwelling on Odhranos made it much more difficult. How could she protect him from whatever they were going to encounter? At the troubling thought, her eyes linger on the door. Still in disbelief at how clingy she had become toward him since discovering that Kasyr is dead, but on the way back, she tries to quell the worry that threatens to build in her stomach. Where is he? Groaning, she presses her forehead against the table and lets her arms stretch out across it. The circlet digs in a bit against her forehead. “Why am I so useless,” she whines, exaggerated for humor's sake in case S'erok is nearby. “This isn't like me at all.”

Outside the cabin, the late-morning sun tries vainly to cut through the dense grey clouds that wreath Frostmaw, but the feeble rays that manage to run the gauntlet are soon smothered in the dense flurries of fresh snow that billow down to carpet city, forest and mountain range in a blanket of whiteness that obscures and softens, uniting everything in an amorphous landscape of undulating white. One of the few breaks if colour in this sea of snow is the dark ugly black of a large stone plow, similar in shape to a shark fin as it cuts its way through the snowdrifts, pushed along by its maker. Odhranos trudges along behind the plow, following the narrow path of cleared dirt before the snow reclaims it once again. His face is buried beneath a heavy fur trimmed cowl, as the rest of him is swaddled in robes and furs to ward off the chill, yet a trickle of cold sweat itches it's way down his back as he bends his mind to the task of shunting his snowplow onwards. It does not bode well that he is finding this task taxing enough when in less than a month, he will have a lot heavier of a burden to wield, with a lot more on the line should he fail. Within his fur-lined hood, Odhranos grits his teeth savagely and sets his concentration to the task like one would throw their shoulder into a heavy cart, shoving it on with sheer angry effort alone. The plow growls angrily as its pace is doubled, throwing the snowdrifts aside with a contemptuous thrust. His speed quickened, it does not take long for Odhranos to arrive beneath the weeping willow that marks Tsuola's resting place and the glade that Inks' cabin is nestled in. The rocky fin dives beneath the soil, like a shark sinking beneath the waves and Odhranos trudges the last few feet through thigh-deep snow. He almost trips and falls a number of times, but the earth beneath the snow shudders and rights itself under his feet, urging him on to the doorstep. He doesn't notice the footprints that would indicate Inks' arrival, even if he could see them, he'd be too preoccupied with trying to grab the door handle, cold-bitten fingers thick and clumsy from the seeping chill. Finally he manages to grasp the frozen iron and he yanks it down, opening the door and letting a bitingly cold gust sweep into the cabin. He seats himself on the doorstep, pulling his large boots off with much fumbling, smacking them liberally together to clear the remaining snow before the door is slammed closed with a leg. Odhranos doesn't bother shirking his heavy carapace of cloth yet, he just flops into his back and groans tiredly. "Xalious-cursed snowstorms. They were bad enough when I could see. Now they're nightmarish." His complaints are directed at the ceiling, for in his exhaustion, he has yet to notice Inks' presence in the cabin. The warm air would be a clue suggesting a lit fire and a fellow occupant, but the remaining chill of the storm and Odhranos' swaddling furs leave him senseless to any kind of heat in the cabin. He hauls himself up from the floor and begins pulling his gloves off, seemingly chatting to himself all the while. Others might think him crazy, the golden cage at his hip would assure Inks' he is not. "Yes, I know I should have asked her to help me." A glove is yoinked off with enough force that it sails over the terramancer's shoulder. "No, I don't know where she is. You were with me when we returned to Cenril. She said she had things to do, so did I. She's a grown woman, she can take care of herself." A moment of silence as Odhranos struggles to haul his thick fur poncho over his head then he continues. "Look, we'll see her again when the Guild assembled in Frostmaw. She's… probably visiting her parents or something. I don't know." Another few layers of clothing are shed, til Odhranos sits in the midst of a pile of fabric, only his tunic on his upper body while from the waist down, he looks like a mammoth. A heavy pause hangs in the air before he sighs. "Yeah, I miss her too." He doesn't immediately jump into pulling the rest of his furs off, instead listening to what S'erok has to say. From behind, Inks' will see his cheeks plumping as a small smile tugs his lips. "If only. Could you imagine Kraken's face? Hah! He'd be over the moon. He'd get half of Cenril out for the ceremony, knowing him." Odh lifts his left hand and splays it in the air. On his ring finger, a small band of granite glints slightly in the dim light, not that Odhranos can see. To him it glows like a band of starlight, clamped neatly about his finger. Like a promise. "I guess this is as good as it gets." He murmurs, then laughs a moment later. "Shut up. That's rude. And you know the answer to that." Odhranos chuckles as he shakes his head, beginning to clamber out of the rest of his furs.

The frigid air that gusts into the cabin literally shoots up her spine, causing the seamstress to sit upright with surprise, and on instinct her hand flies to the handle of one of the bats at her side. She's quickly on her feet, ready to brandish the bat if necessary, but lowers it the moment she hears Odhranos' groan and flop on the floor. Initially, she mistakes it for an injury. Alarmed, she props the bat up against the table again and hesitantly approaches his side. She's barefoot, and jumps a little when she steps in a bit of snow that had fallen on the floor. “Odh...?” Was he hurt? Worry starts to set in while she shivers, both from cold and alarm. Her hands reach to hug at her upper arms, rubbing them a little to bring some warmth back. She shouldn't have left to go to Cenril for a tattoo, of all things. Inks should have stayed here with him. Just as quickly as it came, the worry fades while she listens to one half of the conversation the terramancer is having, presumably with S'erok. It still bewilders her that he isn't aware that she is so close, but she forgets that not only is he blind, but she's a vampire. The seamstress never put much thought into the predatory nature of what she was, unless she was hunting, but it's creepily advantageous here. Really it is just creepy. She keeps silent and relatively still, a smile gradually spreading on her face with every word Odhranos speaks. While she can't hear what S'erok is saying, she can take a few guesses based on Odh's responses. She mirrors him, lifting her hand just a bit to look at the matching granite band on her ring finger. Inks can't help wondering what the look on her father's face might be either, if...She shakes the thought away and stifles a laugh. These were things to think about after Xalious. If things went well, she reminds herself. Suppressing a frown and a sigh that wants to accompany it, she tries to come up with a polite way of announcing that she's here, and has been the entire time. There isn't really a way to do so that she can think of that would be believable, so decides to simply clear her throat and say something that hopefully didn't startle him. “S'erok, what are you saying that's so rude?” she inquires, always curious to hear what witty remark S'erok had to make. Moving so she stands in front of the terramancer, Inks leans forward just a bit to kiss his cheek. “I missed you too,” is her softer greeting to Odh. She wants to ask a hundred questions. Where did he go? How was he? Was he hungry? Tired? Did he want her to make some tea, and what kind? Instead, once he's out of the rest of his furs, her arms slither around Odh and pull him into an embrace. She considers warning him about her back if he returns the hug, but forgets to. The beautifully illustrated monstrosity is mostly healed, but there's some light scabbing in some areas of the kraken tattoo that stretches from the back of her neck to the small of her back, along with the scarring from wolves from years ago that can still be felt, despite being obscured by black ink. “I missed you so much,” Inks repeats. “I'm sorry I was away for so long,” she adds, frowning. Her head falls to his shoulder briefly before she pulls away, stooping to scoop up some of his furs to hang them up one the hooks by the door. “How have you been? Do anything fun while I was gone?”

Odhranos nearly jumps out of his skin when Inks clears her throat. His head whips around and he stares at the patch of air he heard her voice from, eyebrows shooting for the sky from behind his blindfold. He’d have sworn his mind was playing tricks on him but the familiar shimmering silver halo of Inks circlet sends a wave of relief through him. “Sven and all the holy lords, you!” Odhranos laughs, his startling nervousness fading with every chuckle. It’s just Inks, not another bronzed avian to steal him away to torture and captivity again. When she kisses his cheek, he smiles and lets slip a shaky breath, calming himself down before the realisation hits him of what he had just been discussing. Aloud. “Uh. Did...you...were you here for all of that?” S’erok knows the answer to that question, but he'd rather let Odhranos flounder, it's much more entertaining. “I...well, you see- oh.” His embarrassed mumbling is cut off when the weight of Inks arms settles on his shoulder, pulling him towards her. He responds in kind, wrapping one arm around her back, unfortunately unaware of the pain this might cause, but when he splays his palm flat against her skin, the minute bumps of scabs appear beneath his touch. “Sven above Inks, is your back alright?! This…” Odhranos’ fingertips are light, and very very cold, as he gently traces the hardened surfaces, the pressure of his touch barely there. “Oh, sorry, my hands are probably freezing.” Odh lifts his hand away, opting to place it on her hip instead while he turns to press a kiss to her jaw, hiding his face in her neck immediately afterwards. “Don’t apologise, we both had things we needed to do. I’m just glad you’re here now.” He mumbles into the hollow between her collar and her neck, his breath ticklish against her dark scaled tattoos. He sits back and tugs his blindfold off over his head, so he can squint his eyes in a smile up at her. “I’ve been much the same. I still don’t like having to lead, but someone needs to do it. It’s just been an unending stream of organising and logistics, I swear we all took Brenwyn’s work for granted. The real Brenwyn, I mean.” An awkward pause follows as Odh considers how the Guild’s most talented administrator met his unfortunate end. “As for fun… well, not much. We have another ally; Ernest, if you’ve ever met him. He kind of came out of nowhere after we met at the Titan’s Ball. He’s a bit of a wildcard, but at least he’s a wildcard on our side.”

Iintahquohae chuckles, unable to hide the amusement in her voice. She's grinning. “Every word you said, but not his,” she replies, and quickly adds with a little wince once she feels Odhranos' frigid palm against her back, “Oh! Yeah, it's just fine. I got another tattoo and it isn't all the way healed.” Placing her hand over his at her hip, she twines her fingers with his and guides it to her back again without concern for how cold his hands are. “It's gigantic. From here,” her hand leads his to the back of her neck, just beneath her hair, then lifts his hand to lead it down to the small of her back. “to here! It's a kraken... I know, it's silly, but I've always wanted one,” the seamstress sheepishly adds. “Meri did it for me. It looks amazing and has so much more detail than my other one.” Had he seen it before? “I have another on my chest,” she explains. “You might have seen it, but I don't remember. Whenever I go to a ball in a dress that looks like two pieces of fabric that are hardly held together it's pretty easy to see.” Before she can start describing the ring of black ripples tattooed on her sternum to represent Selene and Zaytor, Inks is momentarily left speechless once he kisses her, and as if their roles are reversed and he is the fanged blood-drinker out of the two of them, she trembles at the warmth of his breath against her neck. The most she can do is grin at Odh once he lifts the blindfold from his eyes, and stammer out a, “O-oh, well...I'll be here to help you now,” before quieting again. Having never met Brenwyn, she doesn't really know what to say, which probably adds to the awkward silence. “I don't think I've ever met an Ernest. That must have been when I went off to find Gorehilt.” Wildcards were good, but Inks can't help worrying for Odh's safety. Frowning, both out of concern for him and for feeling concerned and worried to begin with, she asks, “Are you sure we can trust him?” Without thinking, her embrace around him tightens just a bit. :I don't want you to be in any more danger than we'll likely be in when the time comes.”

Odhranos' expression says everything, the embarrassment of being overheard, the slightest wince of regret that she heard some thoughts that he had thought best kept hidden and beneath it all, a small and shy smile, as if he wasn't all that upset that she overhead his musings. "Ah. We, that is S'erok, was wondering about the future. Future plans. After the war, you know." No further elaboration is offered, but his expression is hesitant. While nothing was said overtly, there was enough context that she likely knew exactly what they were discussing. Sven, what were her thoughts on the matter? Was she surprised? Happy? Disgusted? Odhranos has never been more frustrated with his lack of vision than he is right now, her face is right there, mere inches away and all of the cues it must be expressing are lost on the terramancer. What before could have been simply read now needs to be… voiced aloud and the ball of roiling snakes in Odhranos stomach tells him that he doesn't have the courage to ask. Instead, he is happy to lose himself in Inks' excitement over her tattoo. He is slightly abashed when she returns his hand to her back, he hadn't realised she was wearing a dress, hell he hadn't realised she was here at all, so suddenly being presented with this expanse of bare skin was slightly startling. "I can't say I have. We tended to dress rather soberly before…" The tail end of that sentence is left hanging, more for how complicated it is than anything else. Before I was kidnapped, before I lost my sight. Before "this" became a thing, before we were more than colleagues. Too many things to say, best not to try. "Not to mention I hadn't been to a ball in years before the Titan's. I feel a little hard done by, I never got to see you in your dress. Not properly anyway." Odh lifts his hand from her back and does his best to fix the back of her dress, lest he ruffle it. "This fabric feels pretty. What colour is it?" Whatever colour it might be, Odhranos does his best to try picture how it might have looked on the Inks he remembers from months ago, but it's hard to reconcile with the comfy and simple homewear he recalls her wearing before. "Trust him? No. Not yet anyway. But what choice do we have?" Odh shrugs, bending at the waist and brushing the floor with his fingertips as he searches for the discarded furs. "He seems to trust me rather bizarrely, I somehow managed to save his life, well, unlife, during the ball. He was an interesting character, didn't want to hear anything to do "our righteous cause" or how we were just in our reclaiming of Xalious. He was more convinced by the notion that I was some ambitious would-be-king, looking to tear down my predecessor and claim Xalious for my own. Which felt very weird to admit to. I haven't the faintest interest in being anyone's king, but in many ways, I am taking Xalious, just… for everyone else. Anyway, as I said, an interesting character." Managing to find some token furs that Inks hadn't gathered yet, Odh holds the bundle in his arms, suddenly realising that she'd have to take them from him anyway. "I don't know him well enough to trust him, I like to think I understand him, enough that I'm not too concerned. But honestly, at this point in time, we don't have the luxury of doubt. We're playing with such tight tolerances that any edge is too much to refuse."

“Future plans? Well, whatever you were discussing with S'erok sounds wonderful,” Iintahquohae says. To her surprise she doesn't hesitate or stammer when saying it, likely thanks to Sacred's influence. She sounds happy. The thought of what their life might be like after the war makes her smile. “I think after the war I'd like to come back here first. Just to get away from everything for a while and sleep,” she drags the word out, feigning a yawn. Who would have thought joining a guild to learn a bit of magic could be so exhausting? And poor Odhranos, Inks couldn't imagine how drained he must feel. “How about we save your plans for a little while after the war,” she suggests, “and just...take off somewhere for a while so you can have a break? It doesn't necessarily have to be here. We could go to Rynvale. Put an ocean between us and all of this for a while.” His comments about her dress elicit an embarrassed laugh. She wore things like this at home, but it never dawned on her that Odh wouldn't have known. Dresses and brighter colors were the norm behind closed doors for her instead of black pants and black shirts. She copied Kasyr in a way some time after being sired, adding a black jacket to the ensemble. In Inks' case, only one jacket exists compared to the mountain of jackets Kasyr had to have destroyed over the years. “Oh! It's a really dark plum. I'd run around outside in things like this more often if it were functional, but I wear things like this at home. Not usually this revealing, but...” She shrugs. It's comfortable. Dressing more feminine like her mother was something she secretly enjoyed, but Inks never thought she looked good in frilly gowns and things. Odh's description of Ernest leaves a bemused smile on her face, but she is still concerned. If he turns against them in the middle of the war, that would be a problem. Trusting Odh's judgment, she buries her worries and lifts the bundle of furs out of his arms once they're offered to him. “King Odhranos? Should I start calling you Lord Odhranos once it's all over? Or Lord Kerrigan?” Inks teases, dipping into a little curtsy before turning to hang up the furs. “Ooor...Your Majesty?” The image of Odhranos on some throne in Xalious with a crown topping his head appears in her mind, and she can't help laughing. Once her laughter subsides, she pulls him into another embrace. Her hand cradles his head, thumb brushing along his cheek as she kisses him. “You know I'll be here with you if you ever need help... I can't say I know much about being a king, but I'll be there. When Kasyr comes back, I'll nudge him into helping you too if you need it.”

Odhranos nearly drops the furs when Inks react so casually. “Oh.” He doesn’t say any more, being so dumbfounded at her directness he simply stares blankly at the silvery halo that has turned away from him. Suddenly he feels a lot lighter than he had a moment ago and while her attention is diverted, he dips his head and smiles secretly to himself. Oh, indeed. “That sounds nice, I haven’t been to Rynvale in years. It would be a good change, just running away for a little.” He almost adds “-with you.”, but stops himself when a little painful sting creeps into his heart. Reality can only hold itself back for so long. He is thankful of the change of subject to Inks’ dress before his mind can dive down that particular depressing rabbit hole. “It sounds beautiful. Like its wearer.” Odh squints as he smiles sheepishly; he’s not one for being particularly suave, but the moment seemed appropriate. What truly makes him go red is Inks’ titles for him. “Gods above, not you too? Please just call me Odh like everyone else, I’ve heard nothing but “Archmage this and “Lord Kerrigan” that back in the castle in Cenril and it’s doing my head in. I now know while Hildegarde always corrects me when I try using her titles, it feels so strange and uncomfortable!”The terramancer laughs brightly as Inks’ circlet dips when she curtseys. “I’m no one’s Majesty, don’t you dare try making that a thing!” He is still chuckling when he is pulled into her arms and surprised with a tender kiss. “I do, and I think I’ll be relying on you a lot for the next while. But I’m not going to be anyone’s king, everyone needs to get that idea out of their heads sooner rather than later.” Odh leans up to kiss Inks’ forehead, then the tip of her nose. “I’m the same person I’ve always been, nothing more than a teacher who cares too much. I don’t plan on having that change anytime soon.” He punctuates his statement with a gentle kiss on her lips. “No matter what notions you, S’erok or anyone else might have!”

Iintahquohae is reminded of the convenience of dresses with pockets, only half listening to Odhranos' response to her suggestion that they take off to Rynvale after the war. Why? Just as conveniently, the strange wedding band she found long ago is sitting in the pocket of her dress, and she is more painfully aware of it than ever before. Her laughter is a little bit stilted at his reaction to the titles for him she voiced, distracted as one of her hands slips into the pocket holding the ring, catching the band with her index finger. “As we weave ourselves, so are we woven together,” Odhranos said its markings translated to. She considers the meaning of the words, her face illuminating with a smile at both the words and Odh's kisses. They had both just established that after the war that they wanted to get married, so how odd would it be for her to give the ring to him now...to propose to her later? She dismisses the thought as soon as it appears. That over complicates things. Besides, it wouldn't be too odd for her to propose to him, would it? Now, while they have time and she's feeling bold enough to do it. She slides the band onto her finger and holds both hands up in mock defeat at Odh's insistence on no royal titles. The band slips further down Inks' finger, and curls her hand into a fist to catch it and slip it back into her palm to conceal it. She wonders if the terramancer can see the flash of metal like he can see her circlet, or if S'erok is alerting him to her strange behavior. Taking in a sharp breath to settle her nerves, she throws caution into the wind. Now or never. “Fine, fine, no fancy titles then,” she softly laughs, then lowers her hands. They tremble just a bit while taking his left hand into her right, and the seamstress falls silent. This isn't quite the setting she envisioned a marriage proposal happening, but the seamstress doesn't mind. It's their home, cozy and warm and cluttered with books, miles away from all the chaos of the world. Instead of lowering to one knee, Inks remains standing in front of him. The other hand holds the ring, which she holds so if he did say yes, she could slip it onto his finger. Since he can't see it, she not so subtly brushes the metal band against the pad of his finger in case her hushed words don't register once she leans into him, practically cheek to cheek. “How about husband instead, mo ghrá?”

Odhranos is only faintly aware of the ring in Iintaquohae’s pocket; about as aware as you would be of your shoes on your feet, you know they’re there and if someone were to point them out, you wouldn’t be surprised, they’re just...there. What does surprise Odh is when Inks slips the ring onto her finger and takes it out of her pocket to hold her hands infront of him in joking protest. He assumes at first she wore it so he could see what her hands were doing, in tandem with the stone ring on her left ring finger. Odh grins at the twin pair of silver and granite winking before his eyes, but he is caught off guard when she lowers her hands again, keeping the silver in her palm. He can feel the faint tremble in her hands where they hold his and for a moment he is confused, before she brushes the silver wedding band against his ring finger and suddenly he realises all at once what she means. He looks up at her, to where he knows her face is and his face is full of questions and hope, then she leans in close and asks Odh to be her husband. Odhranos’ heart beats like he’s never felt it beat before, he swears it would break free of his chest as he bites his lip in an effort to hold back the tears burgeoning in the corners of his eyes. He is so overwhelmed with emotion that he can’t even hope to speak, so he starts by nodding, squeezing his eyes shut so the happy joyful tears spill over, while he presses the back of his hand to his mouth, lest he start crying in earnest. “I’d love nothing more.” He manages to whisper hoarsely, coughing with a half-laugh, half-sob, so utterly wrapped up in this moment that the world and all its wars and woes simply fades away. There is nothing but this cabin, this moment, this ring that she offers him. This is all that matters right now. “I love you.” He whispers, as she slips the ring onto his finger, a ring he knew so well but never knew would be his. Once the ring is safely secured on his finger, he pulls Inks into his arms, kissing her earnestly while tears stream freely down his face, the first happy tears Odh has shed in many years.

There's a moment immediately after Inks proposes that she wants to call back the words, for worry that he might say no. Was it too soon to ask? What if Odh was just humoring her earlier? But then she hears the rapid pace of his heartbeat, sees the tears fall from his eyes. Tears form in her eyes shortly after, and she slides the ring onto his finger at the sound of his whispered reply. “I love you, Odhranos. I love you so much,” the seamstress manages to croak out between a sob of her own. Once in his embrace, her arms wrap around him and her lips find his, returning the kiss. Eventually, reluctantly, Inks pulls away from him just a bit to gently wipe his tears away with her fingers. Though she is crying just as much as Odh is, she's beaming. When had she ever felt this happy? Wanting to just keep the ball rolling, she has half a mind to help Odh back into his furs and find some priest in Frostmaw's city to get them married today. That might be a little too silly for her so Inks doesn't suggest it, and instead hugs the terramancer tight once more. “I love you,” Inks repeats, kissing Odh again. She could repeat the words a thousand times more.

Odhranos could happily just exist in this moment for an eternity, as he leans back and beams at her tearily. Though he can’t see her face, he makes up for it in his own way, gently wiping her tears with his thumb, tracing the edge of her smile with his fingertips, marvelling at how her face fits so perfectly in his hands, like his hands were made for this purpose alone and no other. It seems unimaginable to him, that he could love someone so much and have someone love him so much in return; that on this strange far-flung continent so far from home, he could find everything that he was missing. He laughs brightly, then bumps his nose against Inks. “I just had the strangest thought. If we were back in Oilean, I’d have to spend the next month learning how to sew so I could add you to the family-tapestry. Mhamó - ah, my grandmother, she would have insisted. She told me all about our family history from those tapestries when I was little. She’d sewn half of it herself” He chuckles at the thought, imagining how his grandmother would have been overjoyed that Odhranos found someone who shared her love for craft. “There’s a lot I don’t miss from that place, but Mhamó was very dear to me. You’d have loved her, she made the most beautiful embroidery. She always told me she’d teach me when it came time for me to add my piece to the tapestry.” Odh sighs and tucks his face into the crook of Inks’ neck, where his words tickle like butterflies against the black tattooed scales. “I wish she could have met you. Part of me wants to start a new tapestry, even if its just for us. She’d probably approve.” Odh smiles gently, nudging forward to kiss Inks’ neck before he lifts his head again. “Did Ricky and Mirianel have any customs when they married?” Suddenly Odhranos’ face blanches and he breaks into nervous laughter. “Oh lords above, I just realised, Ricky is going to explode when he hears about this.”

Caught in a mix of utter joy and shock at her impulsiveness with proposing and Odhranos accepting, Iintahquohae's face is frozen in a toothy smile. What could she possibly say now to make this moment even better than it already was? Their closeness is wonderful in a way that she can't quite describe, but her arms pull the terramancer into a tighter hug, and she kisses him again once his nose bumps her. Family-tapestry? Inks recalled Odh describing something about embroidery on sailcloth from his homeland that she wanted to look into. Maybe this is what he was referring to. “Is your grandmother still alive?” Inks asks, eager to learn anything about the tapestries and Odh's family, more importantly. “Maybe I could emulate them...Start one for us and our family?” Uttering the word family makes her laugh. They could start some sort of family, she guesses. Adopt a bunch of the Guild's younger apprentices? She almost suggests it, but finds herself considering if her parents had any customs. One of her hands reaches up to stroke Odh's hair while she thinks. “Maybe for Mother, being an elf, but I don't think she ever did anything related to it. They got married on one of Father's ships. Real impromptu, no real ceremony or anything. Father's first mate on that ship....I think it was Three? Might've been Seven, I don't remember, but Toddy officiated the wedding and they said he wouldn't stop crying.” Having only heard the story, she isn't sure on its accuracy, but the mental image she has of her mother tugging Father by the arm up to the deck and demanding the wedding immediately after he put a ring on her finger was a funny one. "Mother threw on the nicest dress she had on board and dragged Father over to Toddy to get the wedding over with." Perhaps she inherited that trait from Mother, what with her wanting to drag Odhranos off to find some priest in town to make it official immediately. Her smile broadens at mention of Father's reaction to their engagement, and she can't contain her laughter. He'll be thrilled! “He is going to probably break you in half with the biggest hug he can and Mother is going to want to look at the ring I gave you...” she trails off, looking down at his hand and the band she slipped on his finger. “And not so subtly insist you give me one better than it.”

Odh can't help but smile, so much that his cheeks ache but yet his heart is so full that all he can do is smile and hold this wonderful person that makes him feel like he is full of butterflies. "She isn't, Gods rest her soul. She passed away when I was about fifteen. I missed her dearly- still do to this day, but remembering the old customs and how she used to tell them, it makes it feel like she's not truly gone." Inks' suggestion tugs at a special place in Odh's heart, even more so when she mentions a family and he takes a moment to look at her, softness and fondness in his gaze, loving everything from the slight lilt in her laugh to the way that her curls dance with every shake of her shoulders. Swept up by these feelings, Odhranos cups her face and kisses her deeply, passionately, wrapping all these emotions in the action in the hopes that he can convey to Inks the feelings he has for her. He gently breaks the kiss, and once their lips part, he laughs gently. "Sorry, I interrupted you." Inks' story of how her parents were wed brings a great beaming smile out of the terramancer. "I should have expected nothing less from your mother. Once she gets an idea in her head, it happens. No dilly dallying around fretting about it. Seems that runs in the family." Odh sticks his tongue out in tease. "I can't say I'd object though, I could do with more Oohjmaeyik spontaneity in my life." As if to prove his point, Odh holds up his ring and grins. "I do want to make yours, if you're alright with that. I'm… picky about what materials I use and something as important as this, well, I want to make sure it's perfect in my own way." Odh looks at the ring she bestowed upon him, reading once again the inscription that he translated for her months ago. "Bold of you to assume there could be a better ring though. I can't think of a more perfect inscription, nor would change a thing of the design. It's perfect. Completely perfect."

“I'm so sorry, Odh,” Inks says with a frown. Losing a relative sounded awful, but she had never experienced it herself. ...Unless you counted the Coterie as an actual family. Before she can dwell too long on the thought, she finds herself swept up in Odhranos' kiss, returning it with the same depth and passion. Whatever she was saying before is lost, forgotten once their lips part. “Oh- I, um...” the seamstress eventually stammers out, but she falls silent afterward. Instead, the image of her mother and father getting married reappears in her head. His description of Oohjmaeyik spontaneity makes her laugh again. “I'd love for you to make mine...I wish I could have made yours,” she adds, looking at the perfectly-made ring on his finger. “Whoever did make it is far better with metal than I could ever be...” Trailing off, Inks casts a glance out the window to gauge the time and takes Odhranos' hand. Early afternoon. Surely a priest would be up and about right now. “You're perfect, so it suits you,” she kisses his cheek, snickering. “...How about some of that Oohjmaeyik spontaneity now, Odh?” There's a hint of mischief to her tone, but she's absolutely serious about making it official right this instant. “I bet if we poked around one of Aramoth's temples around here we could find a priest. My ring can wait. ”

Odhranos shakes his head gently. “She had lived a long and fulfilling life, enough that she got to meet my eldest brother’s children before she passed away. Mhamo wasn’t afraid when she went. She kept saying how my grandfather was waiting for her, that she was looking forward to joining him for their last voyage.” Odh laughs gently as he buries his face in Iintahquohae’s hair. “I always wanted to have a love like the one they shared. Now I’ve found it, I think she’d be really happy.” Odh turns the ring on his finger slowly with the pad of his thumb, so that the sinuous script seems to coil about his finger. “I do wonder where it came from…” Odhranos’ musings are interrupted by the playful tone of Inks’ voice, he doesn’t fully process what she’s saying at first then his pale eyes go wide. “Now… as in NOW, now!?” A thrill sparks through the terramancer’s body and a wide gleeful grin plucks at his smile. “I… okay… yeah!” He nods enthusiastically, almost in disbelief. Did he expect to be engaged when he trekked up the snowy slopes to Frostmaw earlier in the day? No. Did he think, even in his wildest dreams, that he would be now planning to get married, no later than a few hours after being engaged? Well actually ye- no. No he did not. And yet, here we are. “I… hooh, Sven above, okay. Preparations. Clothes- do you think you could find something for me in...an hour?” Odhranos’ words are rushed, but the eager grin on his lips belays an excitement behind that frantic energy. “Clothes, right. Flowers, I can get those. Ring…” Odhranos pauses and turns towards Inks, the hints of a shy embarrassment peeping out in his expression. “Actually… I’m a little ahead on that front.” He gestures up towards the loft and like it was tossed by some unseen hand, a small silk wrapped parcel no bigger than a plum arcs down for him to catch. He holds it up for inspection and smiles. “Silver. I plucked it off a vein I found on my way here from Cenril a little while back. I thought… well…” Odh lifts his hand and grins happily. “You beat me to it anyway.” He laughs, a light cheerful exclamation, then turns toward the door and begins unhooking all the furs that had only just been stored away. “I’ll have it ready in three - no, two hours. I’ll meet you in the town square.” He shrugs himself back into the furs, tightening them hastily as he readies himself to go out, then he leans across, kisses Inks soundly on the lips. He doesn’t say a word, but the excitement in his face is enough to say everything before he leaves. Odhranos is over the moon.

“Yes, now! I don't see the harm in it,” Inks can't contain her laughter as she says it. She's happy and he's happy and she wanted to keep that ball rolling for as long as possible. Her laughter turns into a silly sounding cackle as her hands clap together when he agrees to getting married now. Once Odhranos starts going on about preparations, she blinks. She hadn't thought that far ahead. “O-oh! Preparations? I mean...well,” it's very clear that Inks didn't plan any of this at all. She's wearing a dress, albeit the wrong color, but it'll do. There's probably a bit of tulle or sheer fabric and a bit of ribbon tucked away somewhere around the cabin she can speed-stitch into a veil and just...drop it unceremoniously atop her head when the time comes. Looking over at Odhranos, she shrugs. He looked great no matter what he wore, but there was probably some fancy robes Inks made for him in the cabin. If there aren't books cluttering their shared space, there's fabric. “You look fine just the way you are, sweetheart. Unless you want something fancy?” Detail-oriented as she can be when it comes to making clothes, Inks knows there wouldn't be enough time to sew together anything specifically for a wedding in a few hours. That didn't matter to her. However, while the terramancer talks more about planning the wedding, she's moving quickly about the cabin, locating a length of ribbon tucked between a few of her books and tugging a bit of some sheer white fabric from the pile of works in progress she had piled in a corner. It's a piece of a dress for some customer, but she can cut a new piece later and re-purpose this piece into a veil. Within that pile there is a nearly-finished set of robes for Odhranos too – grey, like he typically wore, but with embroidery that attempted to replicate the markings on the ring he wore in thread twisted with metal so he could see it. “How about this? It's missing a few bits of embroidery, but you've always looked great in grey,” she suggests, holding them up for Odh to see the embroidery before she pressed the material into his free hand so he can feel it. The seamstress didn't care what either of them wore really, as long as they were together. There's an audible gasp when she sees the small bundle of silver fly to Odhranos' hand, and her cheeks flush once he explains. “I hope I didn't ruin whatever your plans were,” she kisses him back, grinning. “I'll see you soon, mo ghrá.”

Iintahquohae quickly stitched together a veil and slapped it on her head before leaving the cabin to head to town. She definitely doesn't look like a bride on her way to her wedding, but that doesn't matter. Some brides probably wore brightly colored, backless dresses in Frostmaw for their wedding ceremonies. Enchantment's pixies probably had wilder wedding dress styles and colors, so maybe it isn't as garish as she thinks. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold once she reaches the winterberry garden. Looking at some of the blooms peeking out of the snow reminds Inks that she should probably have a bouquet, so she busies herself with plucking a few while waiting for Odhranos to appear and for the pair to locate a priest. Giddiness is likely apparent to any onlookers, though the seamstress probably looks bizarre in a purple dress, white veil tied to her head with a bit of bright green ribbon, and a handful of flowers she's pulling from the ground.

Odhranos has never felt his heart beating as hard as it is right now. He's stared down dragons, witnessed the lull before battle from the frontline and had to defend a research paper in front of not one but two panels of Magisters, but nothing has ever had this much of an effect on him. His chest feels painful with how hard his heart thumps against it, his breathing is tight and his hands are chilled with nerves. "Xalious above, I'm gonna pass out." He wheezes, fumbling as he tries to thread the fiddly steel cufflinks through the tiny buttonholes. A pair of silver hands reach out and cover his, taking the cufflink from his shaking fingers before buttoning it through with ease. "You're not going to pass out, Odh. You're just nervous." As if he were staring in a mirror, the silvery image of S'erok's form mimics the terramancer perfectly. "I'm going to, S'erok I swear. I was so swept up in it when we were talking, and making the ring kept me occupied but this is, the, We're getting married! S'erok, I'm getting married and not two hours ago I wasn't even engaged and there's a war in three days time and I-guh" Odhranos' spiralling fretting is smushed when S'erok reaches up and squishes his cheeks. "Yep. All those things are true. And y'know what you're going to do? You're gonna calm down, you're gonna take this ring you made and you're gonna go out there and make Inks the happiest woman alive, you understand me?" His tone doesn't frame this as a question. More of an order. Odhranos wriggles free and massages his jaw, his eyes still frantic. "I can't be calm, that's impossible." S'erok responds with raucous laughter. "Impossible!? Hah! What's impossible is you, the dusty old bookend, managing to snag yourself a woman like Inks. But here we are. Impossible is loooong behind us, old friend." The dragon slaps his sandy hand down in Odhranos' shoulder and grins at him. "You'll be fine, Odh. I've watched you and her for the past year. You'll be fine." Odhranos gulps quietly and nods, reaching into his pocket to wrap his hand around the heavy silver weight he finds there. "Okay. Phwoooo. Okay. Okay." Odhranos shakes his head vigorously, straightens his robes, then opens the door and steps out into the cold. Frostmaw washes by in a blur of silver and grey, as footsteps dance around the terramancer like falling snow. He has no attention to spare for them, he is a man on a mission. The gentle dull earth of the winterberry gardens hum from up ahead and Odhranos' stomach flip-flops when he sees a familiar circlet floating like a halo before him. "Ready?" He calls out through the gently falling snow, stepping out of the white veil like a fairytale prince, offering his elbow to Inks.

Josleen :: Celvathia, a wood elf residing in Frostmaw, had met Odhranos a handful of times when their paths intersected at the Library of Arcane Knowledge. She knew of him, but she considered him a polite and collegiate acquaintance at best. Imagine her surprise when the earth opened beneath her feet to deliver a scroll entombed in a stone cylinder that dissolved into dust at her touch, and which, even more shockingly, asked her to officiate a wedding in one hour. Her inclination was to decline the odd request, but as her quill touched ink a sudden premonition shook her spirit and impressed upon her the importance of this task, an importance which felt baffingly cosmic. Taking her new and sudden job seriously, she arrived at the Winter Berry Garden early, draped in a stiff, woolen dress dyed in Frostmaw’s cerulean blue, and stood beneath the Winter Willow. A hard ivory tome bound in white leather and engraved with an etching of the Xalious Tree hovered before Celvathia under the influence of her telekinetic power. The book flipped open and leafed through itself, revealing hundreds of pages of elven script written in pale blue. Celvathia, a wizard by trade, considered herself in equal parts mage and priestess. To many, adherence to the principles of Xalious, the God of Magic, are akin to academic practice, no different from a scientist adhering to the scientific method. But to some mages such as Celvathia, faith in Xalious was not appreciably different from faith in any other god, and thus calling upon the God of Magic to witness a marital union made perfect sense. Why should Aramoth the God of War, or Zaytor the God of Water, be any more suited to the task? Indeed, isn’t love in and of itself a type of magic? What binds together two people who are free at any moment to choose to be apart? Ah love, a natural expression of magic, is it not? Celvathia smiled at the couple. “Odhranos,” she bowed her head to him first, then Iintahquohae. “I am Celvathia, it is a pleasure to meet you, miss.” After Iintahquohae introduced herself, Celvathia asked, “Are there any customs or traditions from your culture that you would like me to observe in this ceremony? Vows? The break of glass? Hand binding with a ribbon?” She thought briefly of more obscure wedding traditions. “A goat slaughter?”

Iintahquohae knew she must look like a madwoman with how she looked and currently behaved. Celvathia is given a handful apologies once the wood elf arrives. Normally this vampire is much more put together. She swears. Realizing she doesn't have anything to actually keep the poorly arranged bouquet of flowers she has in her hands together, Inks holds them in a grip that's a little too tight to keep them in place, crushing stems and a few of the shorter-stemmed blooms. The downside to just acting on a whim and not planning ahead, especially for something as important as this, is Inks has come to the realization that she didn't have anything thought out for vows. “Sh-” she swears, eyes looking every which way as if a bit of paper with quill and ink will materialize from nowhere. Her shoulders slump a little at the thought of Odh witnessing her stammer through hastily thrown together vows. Maybe Odhranos wouldn't be opposed to them exchanging vows again after the war? Then the seamstress could actually put some thought into them instead of whatever she decides to say soon. With one hand, she fusses with her unruly curls, veil and circlet on her head, then decides they probably need to be rearranged. She drops the handful of flowers to free her other hand and removes both veil and circlet, draping the veil over her arm and slipping her arm through the circlet itself to hang it from her forearm. After tucking a few curls behind her ear, she drapes the veil back over her head, then crams the circlet back on to hold it in place. ...This won't work either, but it least the veil won't fly away with a breeze. She can hardly see a thing through the material, so she flips the veil up and over the circlet and stoops to pick up her bouquet of flowers. The sound of Odhranos' voice in the distance, her soon to be husband, she realizes with a soft gasp and a brilliant smile, makes her practically leap out of her skin. Any thought of trying to hastily come up with vows or whether or not Inks' veil is sitting on her head correctly instantly fade away at the sight of him. He looks incredible. “Ready,” she replies, slipping her arm around his to link them. Leaning in just a bit to his ear, she whispers, “You're breathtaking, Odhranos.” At Celvathia's introduction, Inks offers her mouthful of a name. “Iintahquohae. A pleasure to meet you, Celvathia,” she greets. The elf's question pertaining to customs is met with a blank stare from the seamstress, then a sort of sigh of relief. Perhaps they could skip vows! “Vows for me, but...” Inks' head turns a bit to look at Odhranos. “I didn't plan any...Did you want to save them for later or give them a try?”

Odhranos had been unsure if Celvathia would even receive his letter, nevermind agree to officiate the wedding of a distant colleague at such short notice. But some entity up above has spent long enough watching the pair dancing around each other and has decided to take fate into their own hands. He is thankful beyond words when he sees another set of footprints with Iintahquohae and hears a familiar voice. "Celvathia, you are an absolute godsend. Xalious guide your path forever, I can't thank you enough." Odhranos nearly doubled over with how low his bow was towards the elf. "Customs? Ah-" Suddenly and rather rudely, an entire fusillade of recollections hit Odhranos of the few Oileanian weddings he had attended as a child. Oileanian's adored a good custom or two, in fact there were so many that no two weddings were alike. The one constant was the mother's-in-law's duty of griping about what customs had been ignored and how "it just wasn't right that they leave them out." Odhranos head swims. Would they be able to find a length of sailcloth in time? They could probably put off the traditional pre-wedding voyage til later; circumnavigating Lithrydel would take a fair sight longer than it did to sail around Oilean. What about… Odh is suddenly aware of Inks' arm through his own and his racing mind stalls, suddenly absorbed in awareness of her presence. "Vows for myself also. There's not really time for Oileanian customs… and they're all a bit silly anyway." Odhranos smiles sheepishly towards Inks. "I haven't prepared either but… I'd like to try, even if it's rambly. I'll try keep it under an hour if I can." He bumps Inks' shoulder with his own and breaks into a boyish grin.

Josleen :: Celvathia offered to hold the bouquet as Iintahquohae fussed with her veil and circlet. As the young vampire fixed her look, Celvathia used her telekinetic powers to pluck a few more blooms from the garden and a vine from the willow to fashion a pretty bow around the stems. She handed back the improved bouquet with a kind smile. The smile remained genuinely affixed as the couple stammers through their answers to her simple question. Ah, young, impulsive love! Celvathia’s gaze grew misty as she remembered her own wedding 37 years ago. Once the couple settled on vows, Celvathia began. “Odhranos, Iintahquohae, you agreed to meet here in this beautiful garden to formalize your commitment to one another in a setting beautiful and befitting for your love. Your commitment to each other deepens when you choose to invite a higher power, Xalious, to witness your union. Marriage is among the greatest, most rewarding, and, yes, most challenging of relationships. Today, with Xalious as your witness, you choose to commit to each other and that choice is only the first in a long string of choices. You will choose each other every single day for the rest of your lives.” She then translated a passage from her Book of Stories of Xalious the Magical and Divine. The marriage story was of a mage couple who were forced apart in a war-torn country. Through prayer to Xalious and arcane practice, they figured out how to dye their love blue, the color of Xalious, and follow a wispy, blue thread of energetic love to find each other in a serene, untouched field where they built and settled their home. The war never reached their little oasis, nothing could disturb their peace that their love had wrought. After the reading, Celvathia continued, “The vows that you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, “You know all those things we’ve promised and hoped and dreamed – well, I meant it all, every word.” You did not have time to prepare the exact words you are about to speak, but you have been saying them to each other from the moment you met. Iintahquohae, whenever you’re ready.”

Iintahquohae could hug Celvathia for not only holding her messy bouquet, but making it look better than anything she could have tried arranging. “You're my hero, Celvathia. Thank you,” she repeats her gratitude, probably profusely, but it's helping with her nerves. The mantra in Iintahquohae's head that kept repeating no to vows right now comes to an abrupt halt at Odh's suggestion to go through with them anyway. At least they shared a similar worry. She could easily go on for ages about Odhranos and how much the terramancer meant to her. Once Celvathia begins and reality sets in again, there's a jolt of those nerves again, a mix of utter joy and love and anxiety over not having vows and if she looks okay, but oh wait Odhranos can't see her, but surely he can feel her cold hands trembling when she takes them into hers once Celvathia concludes her marriage story passage, and – Iintahquohae tries calming herself with a deep breath. It helps, but it isn't enough. She realizes that she put the bouquet of flowers back on the snowy ground again so she could take Odhranos' hands. It's her turn to speak, but where to begin? “O-odhranos,” she stammers, her trembling hands taking his. He'll probably notice that they're colder than normal, thanks to Frostmaw's chilly temperature and her nerves taking over. “I'm just a little bit bad at thinking on the fly like this,” sheepish laughter follows while she stalls in effort to think of something more heartfelt to say. For a moment there's a distant look in her brown eyes, and tears began to form shortly after. “...As we weave ourselves, so are we woven together,"” she recites from the engraving on Odhranos' wedding band. “Odhranos, you are everything that I have ever sought for from another person as not only a friend, but a life partner. I'd give you a full list but we'd be here all day and freeze...but you are by far the most kind-hearted, intelligent, wonderful and utterly charming man I have ever known. You've challenged me to be a better person. Not only for myself, but for you, and every day I have with you by my side is a gift. ...You make me feel alive again.” There's a visible and possibly audible wince at how utterly corny that line is, but it's already in the air now. No taking it back. “No matter what happens from this day forward, hell -” an awkward pause, accompanied with another wince. Swearing during a wedding is okay, right? “ - from the day we met in your office onward, truly, I vow to always be by your side.” A few tears fall, but she doesn't move to wipe them away. Instead she tries to maintain composure and smiles. This is the happiest day of her life, after all. “Through everything, no matter where our lives take us. Thick and thin, war or peace. I love you, Odhranos Kerrigan. I love you so much more than I could ever possibly say.”

Odhranos keeps his breath even and slow as Celvathia begins. His hands are folded rigidly together in front of him to begin with but as he thinks about Inks, a life with her choosing her for every day that that life offers him, he reaches across and takes his fiancée, soon-to-be wife's hands. His touch is hesitant, fumbling, as his fingertips graze the edge of her palm, much in the way Odh was when he and Inks first began to know each other. However, as he slips his hand into hers, there is a confidence in that gesture, as being with her, sharing the same space and time has strengthened him, making him who he is today. Celvathia's story makes his breath hitch in his throat, so deeply does it resonate with him. Inks' cabin has been that oasis for him, the refuge away from the world. Where love bloomed in the pauses during quiet conversations and bright cheerful discussions. When Inks calls his name, he nearly jumps. When she begins her vows, Odhranos can feel tears burgeoning in his eyes, creeping down beneath his blindfold. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from crying, though he does manage to smile despite all of this overwhelming emotion he feels. He coughs a bright laugh when Inks swears and as she finishes, he squeezes her hands in his own. It is more than he ever could have imagined and he is happier than he ever thought he could possibly be. He lets go with one hand so he can wipe his eyes with his cuff, smiling sheepishly as he does. "That's not fair, I can barely talk now." He laughs as he takes her hands once more. Odhranos takes a moment to catch his breath, as he settles his mind and gathers all his thoughts and all his feelings and tries to put them into words. "Iintahquohae- " he begins, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "Every day that I wake up, I find another piece of you to fall in love with. It happens in the simplest of ways, like how when you read a book, you lift the next page early so turning it can't delay you reading the next sentence, or the way that you hold your teacup in both hands, even when you have to put what you're doing down to sip. I've never known that another person could be so utterly intricate and wonderful and live so beautifully and yet every day, you make me realize it all over again." Odhranos' voice has lost its slight quaver and he now speaks straight from his heart, beaming brightly all the while. "I have never wanted to know so much about someone, and everything that I learn about you utterly bewilders me with how wonderful a person you are. You are kind beyond measure, so intelligent and witty that everytime we debate and discuss I find myself losing track of the conversation because I am so in awe of you. You make me look at the world in ways I never have and you have a laugh that I could write sonnets about and Sven, I've never written a sonnet in my life!" Odhranos grins, his face glowing with happiness. "You make me want to become the best possible version of me that I can be, I want to be someone who can stand by your side through all of the days of our life. The happy and the sad. No matter what comes, today and every day after, I choose you, Iintahquohae. I love you, with each and every fibre of my being."

Celvathia’s gaze misted with the tearful joy of watching two people in love burn bright with their love. “Time to affirm your commitment aloud for the gods to hear. I will ask you each two questions. Iintahquohae, have you come here today of your own free will to take Odhranos to be your husband, that you may live together as equal partners sharing all that life has to offer?" She waited for Iintahquohae to say ‘I have’ then continued, “Do you take him as your husband so that you may love him, comfort him, honor and keep him all the days of your life?” After Iintahquohae said ‘I do,’ Celvathia asked Odhranos the same set of questions. She then signaled for the couple to bring forth the rings. “As you slip the rings on each other’s fingers, repeat after me. Iintahquohae first. Ready?” Smiling, she waited for the bride to compose herself just enough to speak. “Repeat after me the oath you will seal with your ring.” Another pause. “With this ring, I marry you and bind my life to yours. It is a symbol of my eternal love, my everlasting friendship, and the promise of all my tomorrows.” Then it was Odhranos turn to slip a ring on Iintahquohae’s finger and repeat the same oath. “I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss!” She exalts her hands to the heavens to rejoice!

Iintahquohae 's face transitions from smiling to dangerously close to sobbing while smiling at Odhranos' heartfelt words. Out of the two of them, he was the most articulate and here it showed. Lowering her head just a bit to try wiping tears away from her cheeks by rubbing the side of her face against her shoulder, her hands cling tight to Odhranos' hands until he has finished his vows. At Celvathia's instruction, she nods and proudly says, “I have,” to her first question, and looks fondly to the terramancer while answering her second question.Tears well up in her eyes once more, and she nods. “Ido.” Once he has responded with the same, she lets go of one of his hands to retrieve the ring from her dress pocket. She turns it in her fingers, and inhales a deep breath to help keep her from stammering or bumbling with words any more than she has so far today. “With this ring,” Iintahquohae repeats, sliding the Oileanian band on Odh's finger. “I marry you and bind my life to yours. It is a symbol of my eternal love, my everlasting friendship, and the promise of all of my tomorrows.” Her heart flutters when it's Odhranos' turn to repeat the same oath to her.

Odhranos has a brief irrational moment of nerves as Celvathia asks Iintahquohae her questions in her calm, even voice. Even though he is still reeling with the amazement of Inks' vows, there is a directness to Celvathia's questions that feels so solid and weighty, making the ceremony suddenly feel so real. When Iintahquohae does respond, a thrill runs through the terramancer, as she confirms her wishes. Odhranos can barely believe it. When he is asked his questions in turn, Odhranos faces Iintahquohae. To his eyes, all he can see is the silver outline of her circlet, which he now associates totally with the woman before him. A pang of regret thrums his heart that he can't see her right now, but in the moment that this thought goes through his mind, something magical happens. Far away in Cenril, on a lone pedestal in a quiet storeroom, a magic tome glows with soft blue light. Hundreds of miles away, Odhranos finds that before him, motes of blue light have begun appearing, like fireflies, floating before his eyes. This light grows and suddenly Odhranos gasps as Iintahquohae appears before him, rendered down to the finest detail in this faint blue light. He reaches out and gently touches her cheek, his pale eyes wide with awe. "You're beautiful." He whispers, amazed by this gift he has been granted. Celvathia poses her questions and Odhranos responds without hesitation. "I have", and with a bright, gentle smile, "I do." He watches with awe as he sees her reach into her pocket, producing the silver ring and slips it onto his finger. He watches her lips as she speaks her oath and he almost cries when he sees the happiness in her face. He reaches into his pocket and produces a polished silver ring of his own making. Identical to the one she has now placed on his finger, down to the finest details of the Oileanian engraving, Odhranos holds the ring to the tip of Iintahquohae's finger, spared from fumbling or missing thanks to Xalious' gift. "With this ring, I marry you and bind my life to yours. It is a symbol of my eternal love, my everlasting friendship, and the promise of all my tomorrows" Odhranos smiles and adds: "As we weave ourselves, so are we woven together" as he slips the ring onto her finger. He turns his eyes back to Inks' face, and he teaches out to cup her cheek with his hand. "I could look at you forever. I love you." He murmurs, then leans forward, pressing himself to her, kissing her passionately, so utterly full of love.