There was no escaping this day. His absence would not go unnoticed, and he and the groom had a well-established friendship and history.
Though not part of the groom’s party, Rene’s part in helping Lucian reach this point was invaluable. The two families had become close, their alignment through adversary had solidified both houses' futures, though Rene’s was still undecided until his brother produced an heir.
This was not the way he would have hoped to attend, though. On his arm, hung no-one. He came alone and while he dressed appropriately, there was still that air of books and chalk dust about him. These days he spent the majority of his time behind closed doors and shutter windows, pondering over equations that few would even have the ability to comprehend their intention.
The fact she would be there, within a hair's breadth, had anxiety spiking that he arrived with the last few guests simply so he could find exactly where she sat. The sight of the dress had paused his gait, startled by her beauty that he forgot himself and where they were. Once sat, and the ceremony on course, he could feel her eyes on him for Rene couldn’t help but spare her the same attention. His heart ached more and more with every breath taken as the Chantry service drew on and eventually closed.
Escaping to the gardens while the rest filtered into the reception, Rene attempted to collect himself. His pipe brimmed into life, lips sucking in the tobacco in an attempt to steady his nerves before returning. Picking up a glass of whisky, Rene’s hazel eyes roamed the room, his path taking him on a meandering path to her corner. Even if he had wanted to avoid her, his body refused to divert its chosen path.
He would not surprise her, it was not the setting for such a prank, nor would convention allow it. Instead, he paused a short distance from her, allowing her to reject his invitation. Yet between the plague of thoughts buzzing around and his body riddled with uncertainty, his words, greeting became jumbled. [color=#44b8ff]“You look beautifuller.” [/color]
Though not part of the groom’s party, Rene’s part in helping Lucian reach this point was invaluable. The two families had become close, their alignment through adversary had solidified both houses' futures, though Rene’s was still undecided until his brother produced an heir.
This was not the way he would have hoped to attend, though. On his arm, hung no-one. He came alone and while he dressed appropriately, there was still that air of books and chalk dust about him. These days he spent the majority of his time behind closed doors and shutter windows, pondering over equations that few would even have the ability to comprehend their intention.
The fact she would be there, within a hair's breadth, had anxiety spiking that he arrived with the last few guests simply so he could find exactly where she sat. The sight of the dress had paused his gait, startled by her beauty that he forgot himself and where they were. Once sat, and the ceremony on course, he could feel her eyes on him for Rene couldn’t help but spare her the same attention. His heart ached more and more with every breath taken as the Chantry service drew on and eventually closed.
Escaping to the gardens while the rest filtered into the reception, Rene attempted to collect himself. His pipe brimmed into life, lips sucking in the tobacco in an attempt to steady his nerves before returning. Picking up a glass of whisky, Rene’s hazel eyes roamed the room, his path taking him on a meandering path to her corner. Even if he had wanted to avoid her, his body refused to divert its chosen path.
He would not surprise her, it was not the setting for such a prank, nor would convention allow it. Instead, he paused a short distance from her, allowing her to reject his invitation. Yet between the plague of thoughts buzzing around and his body riddled with uncertainty, his words, greeting became jumbled. [color=#44b8ff]“You look beautifuller.” [/color]
11-09-2023, 06:12 PM
